Standing Ethics
by Katling
Summary: Set after Infectious Personalities & Toxic Lives. A young man with a rare & intriguing genetic disorder creates some medical & ethical problems as House deals with his continuing relationship with Wilson & the arrival of Stacy. HW Slash COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Well, here is the next fic in the little series I have been writing. While this probably can be read as a stand alone it might make more sense in some places if you go and read Infectious Personalities and Toxic Lives first.

As usual - I don't own 'em though I wish I did.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1 

House pushed the door to the Diagnostic Medicine conference room open and snorted with sour amusement when he realised it was empty. No doubt his team were hiding somewhere in the hospital, avoiding him with impunity since they currently did not have a patient. He limped across the room towards his office, scowling and jerking the door to his office open. He rather supposed they had a reason for wanting to be as far away from him as possible these days. His temper had been uncertain ever since Stacy had arrived at the hospital with all her worry and concern for her sick husband.

He slumped down in his chair, leaning his cane against the desk then turning to look out the windows. He knew his team had hoped for life to be a little easier for a while after their most recent cases. First Vincent Armitage and his hideous virus that had killed five women and his personal attack on House himself. Then the lengthy illness and recuperation of the young man with thallium poisoning and the cancer patients with Nocardiosis. It had been three days after Andrew Watson had finally been discharged, recovered but with persistent weakness in his hands and occasional bouts of pain in his feet being the lasting neurological effects caused by the level of exposure he'd suffered, that Stacy had appeared in the clinic.

House knew his team thought his mood was due to Stacy and they were partially right. Stacy was a major part of it. She brought with her an incredible number of memories. Most of them were good, he had to admit, but the more recent ones were largely bad. What she had done to him was something he could never forget, for reasons that were both obvious and subtle, and he could never forgive her either. He wasn't sure anyone else would understand the way he felt; Wilson had after all admitted he would have done the same thing. It was the single difference between them that made the difference. Stacy had not told him of the 'middle ground', she had waited until he could not object and made the decision. _Wilson_ would have told him; he still would have made the same decision but House would at least have had some warning, time to prepare for the worst.

House took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew his behaviour lately had been irritating many people, not just his team, and that most of them thought that his attitude was due to the fact that he wanted Stacy back. He snorted derisively; Stacy was _married_ and in his eyes that was that. He was not Wilson, whose reputation as a panty peeler had been well earned. That reputation sent an occasional paranoid shiver through House except that Wilson had said more than once that he was not going to cheat on House. Though House was sure Wilson had said that to his _wives_ as well…

Wilson. House's lips curled in a tiny smile at the thought of the man and he snorted again. Why would he want Stacy back when he had Wilson? Their current relationship may only be a couple of months old but it was already better than the five years he had spent with Stacy. Maybe it was because they had been friends for so long before taking this step into something more. Maybe it was because Wilson had a patience with all his quirks that Stacy and every other person he'd been involved in had lacked. Maybe it was because Wilson had a sense of humour that worked so well with his own. Or maybe it was because Wilson was one of the few people who _didn't_ get fussed about his leg and _didn't_ treat him like he was disabled. Or maybe it was all of the above; any way you looked at it, it worked and House had no intention of giving it up. Not after he'd let Wilson into his well-guarded and fortified heart and even admitted he loved the man.

The smile fell away as he remembered the argument they'd had this morning after he'd mentioned Stacy had dropped in twice the previous day.

"_She seems to be spending a hell of a lot of time in your office," Wilson said, his lips thinning._

"_What can I say, I have a magnetic personality," House tossed off with a smirk._

_Wilson pushed his chair back abruptly and picked up his bowl, stalking over to the bench and dumping the bowl in the sink with a clatter. House looked over with a raised eyebrow._

"_Well, that was an incredibly sulky move," he observed. "Are we being teenagers again?"_

_Wilson stared down at the bench, his hands gripping the edge tightly. "I thought she was supposed to be married. To Mark."_

_House blinked. "Are you…jealous?" he asked incredulously._

"_No!" Wilson said sharply._

_House smirked. "You are! Last time I looked, James, I wasn't you."_

_Wilson's hands tightened on the bench. "You encourage her. You've been chasing after her ever since she got here."_

"_Don't be stupid!" House said dismissively._

_Wilson whirled around and glared at House. "You fawn all over her. You'll kick me out of your office with impunity while she's all but enthroned in there so don't tell me I'm being stupid."_

_With that Wilson stalked out of the kitchen and House heard the front door slam shortly afterwards._

House scowled as he stared out the windows. That had been a rather impressive display of jealousy from Wilson and it had only occurred to him after he'd gotten into the hospital that he'd never actually _told_ Wilson that he had no interest in Stacy any more. He was mostly just enjoying pushing her buttons since while he'd gotten over her, it didn't seem like she'd gotten over _him_. And he was childish enough to be enjoying that.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. This was always the part of a relationship he hated the most; the need to sort out disagreements and have deep and meaningful conversations. He grabbed his cane and levered himself to his feet before limping slowly out of his office for a conversation he was sure was going to be uncomfortable.

* * *

Wilson propped his feet up on the table in the exam room in the clinic. He couldn't believe he'd resorted to House's usual trick of hiding in the clinic to avoid other people but he had to admit it _was_ effective. As long as the nurses believed you were treating someone in the room, they wouldn't disturb you and you had a bit of a haven. He assuaged his conscience by occasionally emerging and actually treating a patient but mostly he just brooded. 

There was probably a certain amount of irony in using House's trick for avoiding people to avoid _House_ but he wanted to think things through so that he didn't end up saying something he'd end up regretting.

He already regretted his words _and_ actions of this morning. He knew he was probably the _last_ person who should be getting jealous but Stacy just had that effect on him. Or rather Stacy had that effect on him when she was anywhere in the vicinity of House. He didn't know where the possessiveness came from since he'd never been possessive with any of his wives or girlfriends. And a large part of him kept screaming that it probably wasn't a good idea to be that way with House.

He scrubbed his face with one hand and sighed. He was afraid that House was still in love with Stacy. There…he'd finally admitted it to himself. He was afraid that House was still in love with Stacy, that Stacy was still in love with House and that he was going to be left out in the cold. Which now that he thought about it was really kind of…stupid. House had told him that he loved him. He'd _actually_ admitted it freely and without being coerced. And House did not cheat.

If anybody should be jealous or paranoid it really should be House. Considering Wilson's past record, House would have every right to be dogging his every step. But House had shown no signs of paranoia…or at least none that Wilson had been able to pick up and he was probably the closest thing to an expert on House's body language that there was.

"Well, isn't this an interesting reversal of roles."

Wilson started and his feet slapped down on the floor. He whipped around to see House leaning in the doorway of the exam room.

"I, er…needed to think," Wilson said slowly.

House limped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah, I can guess what about," he said sourly before taking a deep breath. "I'm not in love with Stacy."

Wilson bowed his head, feeling relief flood through him with those words. He looked over at House, his expression more than a touch penitent.

"I'm sorry," he said a little helplessly. "I…I had no right to…to…"

"Yes, you did," House interrupted. "You're my lover, you're my…partner. I think if anyone's got a right to get jealous over the way I've been acting, it's you."

Wilson mulled that over for a moment. "Why _have_ you been acting that way? If you don't love Stacy anymore, why have you been…_with her_ all the time?" he demanded.

House looked down and tapped his cane on the floor a couple of times. When he looked up, wicked amusement was gleaming in his eyes.

"I like watching her react," he admitted with a smirk. "She hasn't really changed that much and I have. I can still push her buttons pretty effectively but she can't really do the same to me."

Wilson stared at House with disbelief for a moment then started laughing rather helplessly.

"You're…_tormenting_ her?" he asked incredulously.

House gave an amused shrug and grinned. "Hey, I gotta be me."

"Greg, leave the woman alone," Wilson chided, still laughing. "And I mean that in so many ways."

"Aww, _Mom_!" House mock-whined. "You're spoiling all my fun."

Wilson's eyes narrowed and he got to his feet, advancing on House with a fixed look on his face. House raised his eyebrows then looked surprised and interested when Wilson didn't stop but instead backed him up against the wall next to the door.

"I…am _not_…your _mother_," Wilson said intently as he pressed himself against his lover.

He kissed House as fiercely as he could manage as he ran his hands down his lover's body, finally cupping House's growing erection as he ended the kiss.

"And don't I always spoil your fun?" he asked almost cheerfully as he pulled away and slipped out the door with a smirk of his own.

House growled an obscenity and thumped his head against the wall lightly as he conjured up the most disgusting image he could remember from his days as a student. Once he'd calmed down, he chuckled. Now _this_ was why he appreciated James Wilson so much. He was much more _fun_ than Stacy had ever been…

* * *

When House got back up to his office, he ducked out onto the balcony and saw that Wilson was in his office with a patient. As he watched, his lover seemed to realise he was out there and Wilson glanced up briefly. House snorted at the gleam of mischievous amusement he received then turned and limped back into his office. Revenge could wait. 

As he sat down, he saw his team coming striding into the conference room with very familiar expressions on their faces. He rolled his eyes; he knew those looks. They thought they had a case for him. He sighed and stood up again, making his way out into the conference room and over to the coffeepot. He pulled a mug out of the cupboard and filled it up then turned around and looked expectantly at the three young doctors.

"Well?" he barked.

"Nineteen year old male with Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva. His name's Aaron O'Connell," Cameron announced expectantly.

House blinked. "FOP? Ossification in the musculature? Okay, rare, particularly in males. Kind of interesting but sort of boring as well in that…what's it got to do with us? It's a genetic disorder, nothing to do with diagnostic medicine if he's actually been diagnosed."

"The bone's becoming necrotic," Cameron replied. "Both the skeletal bones and the ectopic bone growth in his musculature."

"Osteomyelitis?" House said with a frown. "Do a needle biopsy into one of the bones and find out which bacteria is causing it and start him on antibiotics. Boring."

"He doesn't want that," Foreman said. "He kind of likes the idea that the bone growing in his muscles is disappearing."

"Have you told him that the bone isn't _actually_ disappearing, it's just becoming necrotic and will be replaced by new bone?" House asked, sounding annoyed.

"Yes," Foreman replied. "He wants to know if the bone in the musculature can be removed once it becomes necrotic."

"Osteomyelitis isn't that specific," House snapped. "He'll end up with necrosis in his skeleton and if we don't treat it, he'll end up with chronic osteomyelitis. He really won't enjoy _that_. Go back and tell him to stop being an idiot. Then do the biopsy and find out which damn bacteria is causing this."

Foreman rolled his eyes and the three doctors headed out of the conference room. House watched them go then headed back into his office.

* * *

The young man in the bed looked up awkwardly as Foreman, Chase and Cameron walked into his room. He looked a touch strange; his right shoulder was frozen in an awkward raised position and his head was tilted at a slight angle to the left. 

"Well?" he said eagerly. "What did he say?"

"Exactly what I told you," Foreman replied firmly. "Osteomyelitis isn't that specific. There's no way to make it go after just the bone growth in your muscles. It'll attack _all_ your bone tissue and if we don't start treating it, you could end up with chronic osteomyelitis."

"If I _did_ end up with chronic osteomyelitis, would it still attack the bone growth?" Aaron asked.

Foreman prevaricated for a moment. "Well, _yes_, but if you have chronic osteomyelitis, it'll be much worse than it is now. It won't just be the bone infection. You'll end up with sequestrum. That's…dead bone that becomes separated during the process of necrosis. Then you end up with involucrum which is a bony encasement of the sequestrum. There's bone loss, sinus formation, purulent drainage…that's _pus_. And if one of these sinus tracts becomes blocked, there can be localised abscess formation and infection of the soft tissue. It becomes incredibly difficult to stop the infection and there's a risk of squamous cell carcinoma or amyloidosis. You'll end up in chronic pain and it _won't_ help the FOP. It could just make it worse."

Aaron shifted awkwardly and frowned. "There's…no way of…keeping it at a low level? Just enough to…to damage the bone but not turn into the chronic form?"

"It's a bacterial infection," Cameron replied. "They're not that specific. Yes, it _may_ attack the bone growth in your muscle but it's also going to attack the bones of your skeleton. Osteomyelitis most commonly attacks the tibias and femurs. Larger bones. It may not even go after the bone growth caused by the FOP."

The young man stared down at the blanket covering his legs then sighed reluctantly. "I had to ask," he said earnestly. "I had to."

"We need to do a bone biopsy to determine what bacteria is causing the infection," Foreman said firmly. "We'll do an X-ray and a CT scan to find which bones are being affected then we'll do a needle biopsy."

Aaron was silent for a long moment then he nodded as best as he could. "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Here's Chapter 2 - Mostly relationship stuff here, we should get back into the medical stuff in the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 2 

House limped into Wilson's office just after five and rapped his cane against the desk.

"Coming?" he said.

Wilson looked up from the paperwork on his desk. "I wish," he said tiredly. "I've got to finish all of this budget stuff tonight." He frowned. "Shouldn't you be doing the same thing?"

House waved dismissively. "Cuddy never worries about my budget."

"Cuddy always worries about your budget since your department generally _costs_ more than it bills," Wilson said dryly. "Which one of the ducklings did you con into doing it this time?"

House smirked. "Chase felt like doing some penance. I love Catholic boys."

Wilson shook his head. "You let _Chase_ do your budget? You're braver than I thought."

"He's still feeling guilty about the whole Vogler thing," House replied. "He did an adequate job."

Wilson looked a little sceptical then changed the subject. "I hear you have a patient."

House rolled his eyes. "Not really. Kid with Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva and what sounds like a nasty case of osteomyelitis. He wanted to keep the osteomyelitis to get rid of the FOP."

"Okay, interesting theory," Wilson said slowly. "I take it you told him how dangerous that is."

"Foreman did," House replied, leaning on his cane with both hands. "Can't blame the kid for wanting that to be possible though."

"FOP. That's bone growth in the muscles at sites of trauma, isn't it?" Wilson said with a frown.

House nodded. "Autosomal dominant genetic disorder found on chromosome 4. Soft tissue swelling followed by tumour formation then heterotopic ossification at the site of the tumour formation."

"Ah, yes," Wilson said, leaning back in his chair and looking interested. "I remember seeing some pictures of that disorder. Same man, one photograph was from when he was alive and the other was of his skeleton after he died."

"Yeah, I've seen the same photos," House said casually. "His name was Harry Eastlack. Donated his body to science when he died."

"So what are you going to do with your patient?" Wilson asked.

House snorted. "Treat him for osteomyelitis then send him home. I appreciate that he'd like the ectopic bone growth to go away but this certainly isn't the way."

"_Can_ anything be done for FOP?" Wilson asked curiously.

"Nope," House replied. "Anything that decalcifies would go after skeletal bone as well as the ectopic bone growth and operating to _remove_ the ectopic growth would be counterproductive."

Wilson nodded. "It would just encourage more bone growth. So how long has he got?"

House shrugged. "FOP sufferers generally die in their forties. They end up bedridden though, usually somewhere in their thirties."

"So what kills them in the end?" Wilson asked.

"Lung disease usually," House replied. "Once they start getting bone growth in their thoracic muscles they start have problems with their breathing and lung function."

Wilson winced. "Unpleasant way to go. There's no kind of medical therapy that can help?"

House grimaced. "Biphosphonates and corticosteroids can help during flare-ups but that's about it. I think there's research being done into gene therapy."

"Good luck with that," Wilson muttered with a sigh. They both knew that gene therapy was a long term solution.

House made a noise of agreement. "I'm going then. What do you want for dinner?"

Wilson looked down at the paperwork spread out on his desk rather helplessly. "Whatever. I don't know when I'm going to get home."

House snorted. "We're starting to sound like an old married couple."

Wilson's lips twitched. "Yeah, I know. Still, people having been saying that about us for years."

Amusement flared in House's eyes. "True. At least now we get the added bonus of sex along with the old married couple act."

Correctly interpreting the mischievous look in House's eyes, Wilson gave him a warning look. "No! We are not having sex in my office, your office or anywhere else in this hospital. We have a perfectly good bed at _home_."

House smirked. "You're no fun."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I just think we should _try_ and be adults at work. Besides, knowing our luck, if we did have sex at the hospital someone would walk in on us."

"As long as it's Cuddy, I don't care," House said, his smirk modulating into a grin. "Maybe she'd ban me from the clinic."

Wilson snorted. "She'd be more likely to give you _more_ clinic hours in retribution. Besides, it'd be more likely to be one of your ducklings and I'm not sure which one of _them_ would be worse."

House snickered and headed for the door. He paused and turned back to Wilson. "Well, since you're going to be boring and not let us have sex in the hospital, I'm going home."

He had opened the door as he was saying that last bit and once he had finished speaking he heard a startled gasp from outside the office. Wilson heard it too and he buried his face in his hands with an amused groan as House turned to see who it was.

"Hello, Stacy," he said with mock-brightness, hearing a second amused groan come from behind him.

Stacy didn't reply; she just stared at him with stunned surprise.

"So," he said, maintaining that mock-brightness. "Wilson and I. Having sex. Unfortunately not in the hospital but I'm sure I can work on that. Now you know."

"House," came the warning growl from behind him.

Stacy still hadn't said a word and now she turned and walked away as fast as she could. House watched her go with a slightly quizzical air.

"Huh, that was odd," he said quietly.

"What was?" Wilson asked. He'd walked up behind House and was now looking over his shoulder. "Where'd she go?"

"She just walked off," House replied, turning and raising an eyebrow at the younger man's proximity. He snaked an arm around Wilson's waist and pulled him into a quick kiss. Wilson returned the kiss briefly then pulled away.

"House, not here," he said, his cheeks flushing red as he stepped back. "Why did Stacy walk off?"

House snorted though whether it was at Wilson's action or Stacy's retreat was unclear. "How should I know? Hey, maybe I've finally succeeded in shocking her."

"Maybe you should find out," Wilson replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

House leaned against the doorframe. "I thought you didn't want me spending so much time with Stacy."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should grow up and stop being an arse," Wilson muttered, still rubbing the back of his neck. "Jealousy is undoubtedly a bit hypocritical coming from me."

House snorted again, this time with amusement. "Probably but it is kind of flattering in a weird, Neanderthal sort of way. I don't think anyone's ever been _jealous_ about me before."

"I have no idea whether that was a compliment or not," Wilson said with a small smile. "Now are you going to speak to Stacy?"

"Can I say no?" House replied quickly.

"I think you'd _better_ speak to her," Wilson said firmly. "You've spent most of the time since she's been here almost fawning over her and now she finds out about us like _this_. I think you should talk to her."

House gave an exaggerated sigh. "You know I hate talking to people."

"House!" Wilson said with exasperation. "You're not four, you know."

House grinned briefly. "I know. I'm five. I had a birthday."

Wilson's lips twitched but he quickly smothered his amusement. "Go. Talk."

House smirked. "You know you really do have that Neanderthal thing down pretty good. But if you whack me over the head and drag me back to your cave it's all over."

"I'll try and restrain myself," Wilson said dryly.

House snickered then turned and limped away. Wilson watched long enough to make sure he actually was heading towards Stacy's office then went back to his work, trying _not_ to get antsy at the idea of House and Stacy together, alone, in her office.

House slowed as approached Stacy's office, half hoping that she might have fled all the way home instead of just here but the sight of her sitting at her desk, still looking slightly shocked, dashed that idea. He rapped his cane against the door then limped in and closed the door behind him. He dropped his bag beside one of the chairs in front of her desk and sat down, tapping his cane against the floor.

"So," he said a little awkwardly. "Now you know."

Stacy's gaze, which had been fixed on the paperwork on her desk, stuttered up to meet his. "How long?" she asked, sounding slightly dazed.

House raised an eyebrow. "How long what? How long have I…wanted James? Or how long have James and I been…together?"

"I don't know," Stacy replied, sounding confused. "Either. Both. I didn't even know you…you liked men."

"Yeah, well, that's hardly the sort of thing you tell a prospective girlfriend," House replied with exasperation. "And I've always liked men…and women."

"What about James?" Stacy asked quietly, a welter of emotions glinting in her eyes.

House shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He really didn't want to answer that question. He didn't want to answer _any_ of these questions but a tiny part of him acknowledged that Stacy was probably owed an explanation or two. That and Wilson would know if he hadn't spoken to Stacy and there would undoubtedly be consequences to _that_ that he wouldn't like.

"I've always appreciated James…ever since I first met him," he said as he stared down at where his hands were wrapped around the handle of his cane. "But he was married. To…what's her name…his second wife. And I didn't think he had any interest in men. Then I met you so I just kind of let it all go. I guess I didn't really think about it much after that. We were together then there was the infarction and everything just kind of fell apart. But he stuck around. He didn't let me drive him away."

Stacy flinched at that but as House was still staring down at his hands, he didn't see it.

"Then a few months ago, he started watching me," House continued. "I knew his marriage to Julie was falling apart and I was trying to figure out whether the one had anything to do with the other. He kind of gave it away one night…or I figured it out. One or the other."

"How long have you been together?" Stacy asked.

"Couple of months," House replied with a shrug of one shoulder.

"Do you love him?" Stacy asked, her voice starting to sound a touch brittle.

House's gaze flickered up and she saw it in his eyes before he said, "Yes."

"Then what has all of…what you've been doing lately been about?" she asked, now starting to get angry.

House scowled. "I was just…trying to work out what was going on with _you_," he said irritably. "One minute you're playing loving wifey with Mark, next you're giving me the kind of looks you _used_ to give me. I didn't know what you were up to."

"I see," Stacy said, her voice now sounding a fraction frosty. "And will you be continuing this?"

"No," House replied bluntly. "It's irritating James and that's bad for me."

"And we all know the world revolves around you," Stacy said sarcastically.

"Well, now that we've got that sorted, I'm going home," House said abruptly, thumping his cane against the floor then standing.

"That's it?" Stacy said, the anger filtering back into her voice.

House sighed as he limped over and picked up his bag. "Stacy, you're married. I'm with James. End of story." He slung the bag over his shoulder and looked back at Stacy. "Look, Stacy, I'm…happy. Or at least…less miserable."

Stacy looked startled at that admission then the anger seemed to drain out of her and she stood, coming round the desk to stand beside him.

"You are?" she asked softly.

House looked around uncomfortably. Finally, somewhat reluctantly, he looked at Stacy.

"Yeah. Well, for me," he admitted reluctantly.

Stacy leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Good. Now go home."

House nodded, feeling a little confused at Stacy's reactions during their conversation. He paused at the door and looked at her curiously.

"You're okay?" he ventured.

"I don't know," Stacy said as she sat down behind her desk again. "I need to think about it. I am glad you're…less miserable though."

House nodded then quickly made his escape. He headed down to his car and drove home, puzzling over Stacy's reactions. He couldn't quite figure out whether she was angry with him which he'd sort of expected, pleased for him which she kind of was at the end or something else entirely. He finally shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. He had no way of knowing what her reaction would be after she'd thought it all over and he would just have to deal with it when it came.

He ordered Chinese and ate in a fairly desultory manner when it came. He was surprised to find himself missing Wilson and he scowled at himself for such idiocy. He was an adult, not a melodramatic adolescent. He was perfectly capable of eating dinner without exchanging banter with Wilson; he'd done it many times before. Just…not so much lately. He scowled again and picked up the remote, flicking through the channels until he came across a baseball telecast. He tossed the remote on the couch beside him and slouched down, his mind only half on the game.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Wilson pulled up and parked his car outside the apartment he shared with House. He could already see that the lights were still on even though it was past midnight. House's insomnia had settled down a bit from the way it had been after the intrusion of Armitage but the man still didn't sleep that much at night. Wilson knew _he'd_ sleep tonight. He hated doing the budget and the tedious number crunching always exhausted him. At least these days he slept better; he'd been prone to insomnia himself while he'd been married to Julie, particularly in those last months before it had all fallen apart, but now that he and House were together he was finding that insomnia had all but disappeared.

He turned off the engine and sat in the darkened car for a moment, his forehead resting lightly on the steering wheel. He couldn't believe he'd been so jealous over House and Stacy. Okay, part of it was because House had _seemed_ so damn serious about the…flirting or whatever the hell it was he'd been doing. But he should have known better. Unlike himself, House did _not_ cheat on his current partner. He was an exclusive kind of guy. Not that he had any intention of cheating on House. In fact that was probably the first time he could say that without any kind of hesitation. Even after he'd gotten married, he'd still _looked_ at other women…and occasionally men…and eventually it had become more than looking. But he'd not even been interested in _looking_ at anyone else since he and House had gotten together which _had_ to be a good sign. And he intended for it to last. He knew if he cheated on House there would not be any forgiveness and he loved and cared for House too much to risk that. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably the explanation behind his unreasoning jealousy.

At least House hadn't been upset about that jealousy, even seeming to be a touch amused by it, calling it his Neanderthal streak. Wilson snorted. Neanderthal streak. He hadn't even known he'd _had_ one of those. But then none of his wives had cheated on him. Well, except for Julie and that had only been towards the end when there really wasn't much left of their marriage to cheat on, let alone be jealous about.

Wilson sighed and unclipped his seatbelt, grabbing his bag and jacket and getting out of the car. And now Stacy knew about them. He was _fairly_ sure that was a good thing. Or that it was a good thing if House hadn't managed to screw things up or offend her or something. He hoped Stacy wouldn't be too upset and would accept the relationship between he and House. He hadn't been lying when he'd told House that Stacy still loved him, it was just that she couldn't stand to be around him. Stacy carried her own guilt about what had happened. She knew _exactly_ what she'd done and she had done it knowing that House would _never_ forgive her. But she _did_ still love him in some way and he felt threatened by that.

He got to the door and fumbled with his keys before unlocking and opening the door. He dropped his bag next to the door before closing it and hanging his jacket up in the closet. He walked into the living room and smiled at the sight before him. House was lying on the couch, the remote balanced on his stomach, and he was fast asleep. He couldn't help the emotions that suddenly bubbled up inside him as he stared at the sleeping man. He _knew_ House and he knew that his lover _did not_ sleep through someone walking into his space without waking at least a little and acknowledging it, especially after what had happened with Armitage. That is unless he trusted the person implicitly and Wilson made a quick, private promise to himself not to do anything stupid enough to lose that trust.

He loosened and pulled off his tie, draping it over the back of the couch, then he walked around to the front. A glance at the TV showed him that House had been watching the baseball before falling asleep and he picked up the remote and turned off the TV. He crouched down beside the couch and laid a gentle hand on House's shoulder.

"Greg," he said softly.

Wilson watched as House took a deep breath and his eyes opened slightly. The flash of blue was slightly dazed with sleep but quickly cleared.

"Jimmy," House said lazily. "What time is it?"

"About a quarter after twelve," Wilson replied. He paused for a moment. "How did it go with Stacy?"

House took another deep breath then let it out slowly as he woke up a bit more.

"Okay…I think," he said. "She…seemed to be alright with it all though I think she's a bit pissed at me for what I've been doing."

"Well, I think she has a right to that," Wilson replied, feeling something inside him relax at House words.

House grunted. "Yeah, maybe." He gave a quick flash of a grin. "She was surprised to find out I like men but she never said anything about being surprised about you liking men."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I was her _friend_, not her boyfriend. There's a difference. She probably doesn't much care about what I like."

"I should hope so," House said dryly as he pushed himself into more of a sitting position.

"So she's okay with…everything?" Wilson asked.

House snorted. "How the hell should I know? She…did say she was glad that I'm…less miserable."

Wilson chuckled and he rubbed House's arm. "Good. Though I've got no doubts she'll be a bit…odd around us both until she gets used to the idea. Now, come on. You're going to hurt something if you try sleeping here any longer."

"Too late," House said dryly as he swung his left leg off the couch then shifted his right off gingerly with both hands.

He winced at the pain and reached for the bottle sitting on the low table. He quickly dry-swallowed one of the small white pills then let Wilson pull him to his feet and press his cane into his hand. He wrapped one arm around his lover to steady himself then pulled Wilson closer and gave a small sigh. Wilson smiled into the embrace and let House hold him, gently rubbing his back with one hand. House had been unable to tell him that he loved him again after the first time it was all but forced out by what had happened but he _did_ show it in the things he did. Things he would never do at the hospital. Like this; simply seeking comfort in an embrace.

"C'mon," Wilson murmured. "You're tired. I'm tired. Let's go to bed."

"Did you eat?" House muttered into his hair.

Wilson chuckled. "We _are_ turning into an old married couple. I ate. I went and got something when I realised the paperwork was going to take longer than I thought."

"Mmm," House said and Wilson realised his lover was practically asleep on his feet. Once again emotions bubbled up in his chest. This was something else that House rarely did…let himself be vulnerable with someone. He realised then and there that he didn't _need_ House to tell him that he loved him; his actions were proof enough of that.

"Definitely time for bed," Wilson said firmly as he turned them both towards the bedroom.

* * *

The next morning when House got into his office he found a very grim-looking trio of doctors waiting for him. He raised an eyebrow at them, particularly when they waited until he had gotten a cup of coffee before speaking.

"Aaron O'Connell's refusing treatment," Foreman said flatly once House had sat down.

"Why?" House asked.

"He wants to talk to you," Cameron replied. "He says he's got an idea but he wants to talk to you about it."

"Why?" House said grumpily.

"I don't think he trusts us to tell you," Chase added.

"What have you three been doing to inspire such distrust in a patient?" House asked with a smirk.

"Nothing," Foreman replied testily; he clearly seemed to view Aaron's refusal to talk to them as some kind of personal affront.

"Then go and ask him why he's refusing treatment," House said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And come back with an answer this time."

His team gave him looks of exasperation but trooped out of the office and down the corridor. House snorted as he watched them go then picked up his Gameboy.

He wasn't overly surprised to see his trio of ducklings return after about thirty minutes but he studiously ignored them until they were once again standing in front of his desk. He confidently predicted to himself that they would be returning empty-handed…so to speak.

"You're back," he said, glancing at them briefly but keeping most of his attention on the game. "What's his problem?"

"He won't speak to us," Foreman said, his irritation now obvious.

"He says he'll only speak to you," Chase added. "And that if you don't speak to him, he'll discharge himself."

"His funeral," House said with a shrug. "Literally."

Cameron looked indecisive for a moment then she sighed. "He also said he's got an idea and a challenge for you. That he thinks you might be the only doctor around who'd hear him out and give it a try."

House glanced at her for a moment. "Really?" he said, a hint of curiosity creeping in.

Cameron sighed and looked like she really didn't want to add this last part. "He said it would be worth your time and that whatever decision you came to after hearing him out, he'd abide by."

House raised an eyebrow at that and dumped the Gameboy on the desk, ignoring the tinny sounds of death and destruction. He grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet.

"Well, let's go hear what the man has to say," he said with mock-brightness.

House limped down the corridor towards his patient's room, his team trailing along behind him. When he got there, he paused to observe the young man for a moment. He was an odd sight. He was a reasonably handsome young man but his body looked like it had been frozen in what was a very awkward position with one shoulder slightly raised and his head tilted at a slight angle. He was sitting upright in the bed and when he turned to look out the window, he had to shift his entire upper body.

House slid the door open and limped into the room, coming to stand at the end of the bed. He waited until the young man had turned back to look at him.

"I'm Dr House," he said bluntly. "And you're being an idiot."

The young man seemed to steel himself for a moment before speaking.

"No, I'm not," he said quietly but firmly. "But I did need _something_ to get you here. I…kind of had an idea last night and I wanted to know if it's feasible."

"So why not tell my team?" House asked.

"Because ultimately they're not the ones who make the final decision about my treatment," Aaron replied. "In the end it comes down to you and me. I just thought I'd cut out the middle men…and woman."

House snorted with amusement; that was actually a pretty good answer. "So what's this idea then?"

"I got the whole explanation about osteomyelitis from Dr Foreman yesterday," Aaron began. "And I know it has to be treated but…once that's been done, couldn't there be some way to…_selectively_ infect the bone growth in my muscles? By injecting the bacteria directly into them or something? I know the infection doesn't completely destroy the bone but couldn't it possibly reduce the bone enough so that it could be removed surgically? I already know that very minor surgeries sometimes don't cause an inflammation in the FOP so surely some kind of endoscopic surgery could be used to remove the infected bone?"

House opened his mouth to dismiss the idea completely then he shut it as the possibilities began to roll around his mind.

"You can't be seriously considering this?" Foreman objected.

"Why not?" House said, slightly absently as he kept thinking.

"You can't _deliberately_ inject someone with bacteria," Foreman said flatly. "It's unethical and dangerous."

"It's not unethical when _I'm_ the one who suggested it," Aaron countered.

"It's still dangerous," Cameron said. "Doing something like this could trigger chronic osteomyelitis."

"But you don't know that," Aaron replied heatedly. "It could work. Besides who cares if I end up with chronic oesteomylitis. It's not like I've got a great life expectancy as it is. I'm nineteen now. I can pretty much expect to be confined to a bed by the time I hit thirty and I'll probably be dead before I'm forty. If this gives me a few more years before I get to the bedridden stage then I think I could live with the chronic osteomyelitis that may or _may not_ occur."

"But if it did you'd end up in constant pain and there'd be abscess formation," Foreman said. "You could even end up with cancer."

"_So_?" Aaron said with a mirthless laugh. "Dr Foreman, you don't seem to get it. I am _going_ to die anyway. I'm not likely to see my fortieth birthday and I won't enjoy the last few years of my life because I'll probably be struggling to breathe. Add chronic pain or cancer to mix, so _what_? If trying this kills me early, I'm not going to blame you or anything. It's _my_ choice and, hell, it was even my _suggestion_." He paused and gave a bitter laugh. "Hell, if it kills me early I'll probably _thank_ you. You think I _like_ walking around like this? You think it doesn't hurt already? That it's not uncomfortable? You think I wouldn't give _anything_ for a chance at something approximating a normal life? If this works then maybe we can get rid of some of the bone that's making me look like a fairly freaky statue and I can move a bit more easily."

Foreman looked slightly uncomfortable at that and House decided to end the debate here.

"All of that's irrelevant right now," he said with a wave of his hand. He then pointed a finger at Aaron. "As interesting as your idea is, there is nothing that can be done about it right now. And if you don't let us treat you for the osteomyelitis you currently have then the whole thing's moot anyway."

"You'll do it?" Aaron asked excitedly.

House quelled him with a glare. "I'll _think_ about it. Your idea is simplistic. There's more to consider. We can discuss it again when the osteomyelitis is gone."

Aaron looked rebellious. "How do I know you're not just saying that? That'll you'll just turn me down flat when I'm better."

House scowled at the young man and Aaron swallowed hard but still kept up his defiant look. Finally House sighed and rolled his eyes.

"If I say no, I'll give you the reasons why," he said.

Aaron stared at him for a long moment then sighed and nodded. "I guess that's the best answer I'm going to get, isn't it?"

"Correct," House said as he turned to leave. "I'll think about it and, once you're better, we'll revisit the question."

He limped out of the room, mentally counting backwards from ten as he did so. He'd reached 'six' when he was surrounded by his team.

"You're not _seriously_ going to consider it?" Foreman asked incredulously. "Are you _insane_?"

"That's never been proven," House said as he limped along.

"You are, aren't you?" Foreman said with disbelief.

"Well, it could work," Chase pointed out. "It's actually kind of an interesting idea."

Foreman gave Chase a look behind House's back that quite clearly said 'suck up' and Chase rolled his eyes.

"Chase is both correct and a suck up," House said. "But you'll note I _haven't_ said I'll agree to the treatment. I said I'd _think_ about it which is exactly what I intend to do."

He stopped suddenly and the three young doctors had to do the same, though much less gracefully, in order to avoid careering into him. He fixed them all with a glare.

"Don't we have a patient?" he demanded. "Who needs some kind of treatment for something? Like a potentially bad case of osteomyelitis? What are you lot badgering me for?"

The three doctors exchanged frustrated and exasperated looks and they walked away. House watched them go then headed back for his office. He had promised Aaron O'Connell he'd think about it and he intended to do that…along with a bit of research as to whether it was even worth thinking about.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Wilson stood outside the glass door to House's office and eyed the sight inside the office with amused curiousity. House was glaring at the screen of his computer as though it had just insulted him. The desk was strewn with open books and sheets of printouts and there were more books, both open and closed, scattered around the floor. To add to the tableau, Chase, Foreman and Cameron were sitting around the table in the conference room eyeing their boss with very different expressions. Foreman looked disapproving and exasperated but Wilson didn't take this as proof positive that House was up to something. Foreman often looked that way around House. Chase looked curious and even a little eager as though he thought that House was going to find some kind of buried treasure which actually _did_ make Wilson think House was up to something. Chase was usually the most tolerant of House's occasional forays into the unusual and controversial and even supported it on occasion. Cameron seemed to be varying between the two men and it was her reaction that _really_ made Wilson think House was about to cause trouble.

Wilson finally pushed the door to the office open and sauntered in, collapsing into his usual chair. He caught the small flurry of movement in the other room but ignored it in favour of the still-engrossed House.

"What are you up to now? And how pissed are you going to make Cuddy?" he asked amiably.

House flicked him a quick glance. "What do you think about the idea of deliberately infecting someone with a bacteria in order to degrade bone enough to remove it with endoscopic surgery?"

Wilson was silent for a moment as he put all of that together.

"You're kidding, aren't you?" he said seriously. "You can't go around deliberately infecting someone."

"What if the patient is the one who suggested it?" House countered.

"Then the patient is insane," Wilson replied flatly. "Or desperate which I assume your FOP patient is. You can't let his desperation overrule common sense."

House gave him an irritated look. "I'm not. I just think he might have an interesting idea. I haven't made any promises."

"What if there are complications? What if he gets sicker or dies?" Wilson demanded.

"He doesn't care," House said absently as something on the screen caught his attention. "He says he's going to die anyway and if this kills him, so what. He'll take the chance to get more freedom of movement and maybe a few more years of life."

"He's insane," Wilson replied, shaking his head.

"I thought you said he was desperate."

"He's both."

"I think he's got an interesting idea," House said as he used the mouse to print the page he'd been reading. "Don't know if it's feasible yet but it's definitely worth looking into."

Wilson shook his head again and looked disapproving. "He certainly picked the right doctor to broach this idea to. Any sane doctor would have shot him down already."

"When have I ever claimed to be sane," House said with a wicked grin. "Or maybe it's just that he found a doctor willing to take a risk or two instead of one mired in staid conservatism."

Wilson opened his mouth to answer then shut it again as something occurred to him.

"You're going to have to tell Cuddy," he said firmly. "And probably Stacy."

That got House's full attention. "What? Why?"

"Because your patient might be prepared to go through with this but what about his family?" Wilson said pointedly. "If he dies, they could sue. He's going to have to sign some kind of document in order to give you and the hospital protection which means Cuddy and Stacy are going to have to know what's going on."

House grimaced. "I don't want to do that," he said in something close to a whine. "They won't let me. They'll argue and yell and tell me I'm crazy and my patient is stupid. It'll be boring and tedious."

"Then you better come up with some good arguments," Wilson countered he then waved his hand at all of the books and papers. "Have you?"

"Not yet," House said reluctantly. "But with something like this I may not be able to. It's ground-breaking." He grinned again. "I like breaking ground and making other doctors look stupid."

"Yes, this I know," Wilson said dryly. "But you're still going to have to tell them." He glanced over towards the conference room. "I'm surprised you're not making them do all of this scut work."

House snorted as he turned back to the computer. "Foreman thinks I'm crazy and that the patient has a screw loose. Chase is being a suck-up and is lousy at research and Cameron can't decide between the two extremes. None of them would look into it seriously enough."

"Maybe they're right," Wilson suggested.

House shot him an irritated look. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"No one's," Wilson said with exasperation. "Except maybe the patient's."

"I think _I'm_ on the patient's side," House shot back.

"No, you just like the challenge he gave you," Wilson replied. "The patient is desperate and desperate people do stupid things on occasion. Have you stopped and thought about whether this is the _best_ thing to do for the young man?"

"Of course it is," House said dismissively. "If it gives him greater movement and maybe staves off dying for a few more years, what harm could it do?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "What harm could it do? House, be serious. You _know_ the risks of something like this. And it's hardly what I would call ethical. Or even moral."

"You think Edward Jenner was being unethical and immoral when he injected people with cowpox in order to prevent smallpox?" House demanded.

"I think Jenner had done a lot of observation and had a sound scientific basis for what he did," Wilson replied firmly. "And cowpox wasn't lethal."

"So if I find a sound scientific basis, you'll support me?" House said swiftly.

Wilson baulked for a moment then took a deep breath. "_If_, and that's a big if, you can find something that _I_ agree is a sound scientific basis then yes, I'll support you. But I want to see everything you find first."

"You're getting conservative in your old age, Jimmy," House replied with a hint of sourness.

Wilson considered that for a moment. "Thank you," he said dryly.

"Didn't mean it as a compliment," House muttered.

"I know," Wilson replied with a small smile. "But I'm taking that way anyway."

House's reply was interrupted by movement in the other room catching their attention. They both looked around to see Foreman answering the phone. He spoke for a few minutes then put the phone down and said something to his colleagues. The three of them then disappeared out of the room.

"Oh, that's never a good sign," House complained.

"Can't be your current patient or they'd have told you," Wilson said with a smile. "Maybe they've found a new patient. Good to see you doing some work. Cuddy will be pleased."

"Because that's what I want to do with my life, please Cuddy," House said as he rolled his eyes. "Though if she wears that fetching, low-cut number, I might change my mind."

"If you're busy she might give you time off the clinic," Wilson said, grinning and waiting for the reaction.

"Jimmy, you tease," House said roguishly, humour glimmering in his eyes. "Tell you what, if you can get her to give me two…no, _three_ weeks off clinic duty, I'll take whatever patient they've found."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious?"

House considered it for a moment. "Sure, why not?" he said in an off-hand manner.

Wilson stared at House for a long moment then reached out and picked up the phone, dialling Cuddy's number rapidly. House leaned back in his chair and watched with amusement, feeling fairly safe in the idea that Cuddy wouldn't want to let him off that much in the way of clinic hours.

"Dr Cuddy, it's Dr Wilson…Fine, thank you…I think House's team are out getting a new patient at the moment and House said he'd take the patient along with his current one without question if you gave him three weeks off clinic duty."

House started; he hadn't thought Wilson would just blurt out the dare to Cuddy. He knew how this was going to end…

"You think that's fair?" Wilson continued, his eyes sparking with amusement. "He can have the three weeks off?...I'll let him know…Yes, I'm sure he'll be pleased…Hmm, perhaps I won't tell him that…Thank you…Goodbye."

Wilson hung up the phone and grinned over at House who was watching him with mild irritation.

"Why did you tell her like that?" House complained.

"You didn't tell me not to," Wilson countered, still grinning.

"You better hope it's something interesting," House grumbled. "Cuddy only has to put up with me during the day. _You_ sleep with me."

"I think I can rely on your team finding something interesting," Wilson replied dryly. "They know you well enough by now."

"You're still going to pay for this," House said warningly.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "I look forward to it," he said with a leer.

"Not that way," House replied. "I'll think of something far more interesting."

The return of the three young doctors ended the conversation. They walked in with Foreman in the lead again.

"We've got another patient," Foreman said firmly. "Twenty-four year old female. Fiona Murray. Her symptoms are all over the place. She's nauseous, fatigued, apathetic. She's complaining of headaches and blurred vision. She's been vomiting and she says her bones hurt. She's also got some dermatological problems and she bruises easily."

House hesitated for a moment then glanced over at Wilson when the oncologist thumped the desk with his foot. House sighed and looked rather put-upon as he turned his attention back to the three doctors who worked for him.

"Fine! Admit her. Get a history. Run the standard tests. Try and figure out what's wrong with her. Blah, blah, blah," he said with a wave of his hand. "You're big doctors; you know what to do. You don't need me to hold your hands."

"O-_kay_," Foreman said warily before he and the others quickly left the office, seeming to want to escape before House could change his mind.

"You're not letting them treat her on their own, are you?" Wilson said, trying not to laugh. "That wasn't what you promised."

"Uh-uh," House said holding a finger in the air. "I promised to _take_ the patient. I didn't promise to _treat_ the patient." He shrugged. "Besides, isn't this what I'm supposed to do? Give them wings and let them fly?" The last was said in a very sardonic tone.

Wilson made an exasperated noise. "I should tell Cuddy and let her give you back the clinic hours."

"Ah, now it's not my fault you didn't get the specifics right," House said smugly. "Besides if you tell Cuddy you'll be a welcher and a sneak and you wouldn't want that now, would you?"

"Heaven forbid," Wilson said dryly. "So what do you think is wrong with her?"

House shrugged. "Hard to tell. The symptoms are pretty vague. Could be a lot of things. We'll see what the test results say. Could just be she suffers from migraines and really bad dermatitis which would be boring and you'd have to pay."

"Let's hope it's something interesting," Wilson said then he paused and shook his head. "I can't believe I said that. I've been hanging around you for too long."

House smirked. "You mean I've corrupted Saint Wilson. I didn't think it was possible after all these years." He waggled his eyebrows at Wilson. "Maybe it's the sex?"

"Quite likely," Wilson replied with an equivalent smirk as he got to his feet. "Well, I think my work here is done."

"That's right," House mock-complained. "Come in here, distract me from my work, add _more_ work then just bugger off. I can tell you're a Department Head."

"I do my job well," Wilson said smugly. "Besides it's not like you have a massive workload in the first place. Keep on at this rate and you might actually start working normally."

"Define normal," House retorted.

"Anyone but you," Wilson shot back.

House considered that then he shrugged amiably. "Good point."

Wilson walked towards the door, pausing just before he pulled it open.

"And don't forget that you're going to need to speak to Cuddy and Stacy about your ideas for your FOP patient's treatment," he said as he left.

"Dammit," House muttered as he watched Wilson walk away. "I was hoping you'd forget that."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

By six o'clock that evening House was feeling frustrated and irritated with the world in general. He had managed to find plenty of information but nothing that might constitute scientific proof that this suggestion might work. Nor did he think he'd really found anything that might give him some idea of whether Aaron's idea would work. He'd have to read what he'd found through properly before he could be sure but it wasn't looking good. Not that that would stop him if he came to the conclusion it might work; it would just make arguing with everyone else easier.

He glanced over at the conference room and saw that Chase was the only one still left in the other room and his eyes narrowed at the air of completely false casualness around the Australian doctor. He grabbed his cane and limped over to the door, opening it and sticking his head into the conference room.

"How's it going with mystery patient number two?" he barked, smirking at the way Chase jumped.

"Uh, we're still running tests," Chase stammered.

"In other words, you have no idea," House translated.

"We have ideas," Chase said indignantly. "We're just waiting for test results."

"What kind of ideas?" House demanded. "She's nauseous, been vomiting, is fatigued and apathetic. She's got headaches, blurred vision and dermatological problems. And she says her bones ache and that she bruises easily. What's she got?"

"Well, it could just be migraines and dermatitis of some kind," Chase said, starting to look a little intimidated.

"Boring…and you lot wouldn't have coerced me into taking her. What else?" House snapped.

"Uh, it could be hypercalcemia or hyperparathyroidism," Chase replied hesitantly. "Or Osgood-Schlatter disease or some kind of toxicity."

House considered those suggestions. "Hmm, maybe you three aren't useless after all. What tests are you running?"

Chase was starting to look like he was in the middle of an oral exam.

"We're testing her calcium levels along with the levels of parathyroid hormones," Chase replied. "Her serum chloride, phosphate and carbon dioxide levels. Radiography of her knees for Osgood-Schlatter. CT scan to rule out intracranial mass or haemorrhage. And we're testing her Vitamin A levels because Cameron thinks it could be Vitamin A toxicity."

"Huh," House said with surprise. "Good."

Chase blinked and looked surprised. "Really?"

House looked slightly disgruntled. "What about FOP boy?"

"Uh, the infection's being caused by Staphylococcus aureus," Chase said, looking slightly blind-sided by the sudden change of subject. "We started treatment with Nafcillin."

"And if that doesn't work?" House asked.

"Vancomycin," Chase replied promptly.

"Is he going to need surgery?" House peppered Chase rapidly.

"Uh, probably not," Chase said, starting to look a little shell-shocked. "But we'll review that as the treatment continues."

House looked vaguely impressed and a little disgruntled at the same time. "Keep this up and I might retire."

Before Chase could reply House pulled the door shut and returned to his desk, leaving the young doctor standing there and wondering whether he should be pleased that they were doing all the right things or annoyed because House had simply expected that and given precious little praise.

House kept a watch on Chase out of the corner of his eye as he gathered up the papers and journals he wanted to take home and read. He was inwardly amused at the young man's reaction. Chase was managing to look both pissed and pleased at the same time and House briefly wondered how he managed to do that so well. Personally he was just pleased that they hadn't screwed anything up and seemed to be handling both patients effectively; it meant he could go home. He slung his bag over his shoulder and pushed open the door to the conference room again.

"I'm going home," he announced abruptly. "Call me if either of them look like they're about to die. _That_ would be interesting."

He didn't wait for a reply but turned and headed for the door that opened onto the hall. He headed for Wilson's office and found his lover sitting behind his desk reading a medical journal.

"Ready to go?" he said.

Wilson put the journal down on his desk and looked up. "You're done?"

House patted his bag. "Got plenty of reading material."

"You still think you can find supporting evidence?" Wilson said dubiously. "House, why are you persisting with this?"

"Because Aaron O'Connell asked me to," House said simply as Wilson got up and pulled his jacket on.

The oncologist picked up his briefcase and the two men headed for the lifts.

"You're going to all this trouble just because a _patient_ asked you to," Wilson said dubiously.

"Well, that and the opportunity to discover something new," House said with a smirk.

"And to show everyone else up," Wilson said.

"Yeah, that too," House said as he pushed the lift button with his cane. He paused and looked thoughtful. "To be honest, I don't think it's possible but it's worth looking into. And if it works…well, it's a treatment of sorts for FOP."

Wilson sighed and they walked into the lift that had just arrived. "I suppose you have a point. It's just unusual to see you talking to patient unless you absolutely have to."

"He threatened to walk out without treatment," House replied.

"And you didn't call his bluff?" Wilson said incredulously.

"I thought about it," House admitted.

The lift doors opened and they walked towards the carpark.

"Then he said he had a challenge I might like and that he'd abide by my decision no matter what it was," House added.

"Damn, he certainly got the right doctor to throw that at," Wilson said as he shook his head. "What about the young woman you've handed over to your team?"

"They're running _tests_," House said with amusement. "They've got some good ideas. I've trained them well."

"Well, I suppose it was learn or die really," Wilson said blandly as they got into the car and he started the engine.

"Damn right," House said with what could only be called an evil smirk.

"One day they're going to surprise you," Wilson predicted as he pulled out of the carpark.

"They surprise me every time they manage to get halfway close to a correct diagnosis," House replied sourly.

"They're not _that_ bad," Wilson said with amusement.

"Sometimes," House conceded.

"So are you _really_ going to leave them to their own devices with this second patient of yours?" Wilson asked.

"Why not?" House replied. "They're supposed to be learning about diagnostic medicine. Let 'em learn the hard way."

"And if she dies?" Wilson asked.

"With those symptoms?" House said scornfully. "She'll only die if they do something stupid."

"You know what's wrong with her, don't you?" Wilson said with amusement. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know _exactly_ what's wrong with her," House said with exasperation. "But I've got a pretty good idea."

"Did you go and speak to her?" Wilson asked.

"Nope," House said smugly. "Did have a look at her though. I'm pretty sure I'm right. Now let's see if those three can get it right without me having to drop enormous hints."

"This should be interesting," Wilson said blandly. "I might have to hang around a bit more to watch."

"What? More than you do already?" House replied. "Jimmy, you practically have a mortgage taken out on that chair in my office."

"Cheap mortgage too," Wilson said lightly. "Amazing what sex can buy you."

House flashed him a quick, heated grin. "You already had the mortgage before the sex started."

"Ah, then the payment must have been enduring the biting sarcasm and cheap insults," Wilson said with amused sagacity.

"Don't forget the years of lunches," House added as they pulled into the car park at their apartment.

"Ah yes, can't forget those," Wilson said dryly. "And the years of stealing food, buying beer and take out."

"But in return you have that chair and my scintillating company," House said as he climbed out of the car.

"What a bargain," Wilson replied, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "No wonder people call me insane."

"No, they call _me_ insane," House disagreed as he opened the door and they walked in, placing their bags by the door and hanging up their coats. "They just think you're weird…mostly for hanging out with me."

Wilson grinned and pushed House up against the wall lightly, pressing his body firmly against his lover's.

"There are definite advantages to hanging out with you," he said, their lips almost touching. "But quite frankly I'd rather they didn't know what they were. You're mine."

Wilson was surprised to see desire flare briefly in House's eyes at that comment then the older man's eyebrow went up.

"Have you always had that possessive streak or do I just bring out the best in you?" he asked wryly, struggling not to move as the warmth of Wilson's body started all sorts of interesting reactions in his own.

Wilson gave a rueful laugh and dropped his head onto House's shoulder.

"I have no idea where it comes from," he said, his voice slightly muffled. "I'm sorry."

"Didn't say I didn't like it," House said calmly then smirked as Wilson's head came up sharply.

"You don't? I mean, you do? I mean…you like it?" Wilson stammered with surprise.

"Yeah, oddly enough," House said with thoughtful honesty then he gave Wilson a ridiculous leer, waggling his eyebrows in what was meant to be a lecherous manner. "Turns me on, baby."

Wilson blinked. "Okay," he said slowly. "One, are you serious? And two, please don't call me baby."

House snorted and rolled his eyes, his cane falling from his hand with a clatter. "Am I serious?" He grabbed Wilson's hips and yanked them hard against his own, ignoring the flare of pain from his leg in favour of grinding his trapped erection against Wilson's. "Is this serious enough for you?"

Wilson moaned as the sudden friction sent waves of pleasure through him. He quickly grabbed House's hands and yanked them off his hips, stilling their motion and separating them fractionally.

"You really _like_ that I'm possessive?" he said slightly breathlessly.

"Well, it'd be a bit hypocritical of me if I didn't," House said dryly.

That reply brought Wilson's thought processes to a sudden halt as he realised his speculation about House's possible reaction if he was stupid enough to cheat on him had been correct…and then some. House seemed to be almost reading his thoughts.

"I don't share, Jimmy," he said soberly.

"I'm not going to cheat on you, Greg," Wilson said equally soberly.

"I'm sure you said that to your wives too," House replied.

Wilson hesitated and chewed on his lip for a moment. "I told them I loved them. I don't think I ever told them I wasn't going to cheat on them. It never really came up. I'm not going to cheat on you, Greg."

"You like to look and eventually you like to play," House said with an admirable lack of accusation.

"I haven't been looking," Wilson replied. "Haven't wanted to look, haven't been _interested_ in looking. I am _not_ going to cheat on you."

"Good," House said after a long pause. "Because I'm serious when I say I don't share."

"I know," Wilson replied soberly then he leaned forward and kissed House, gently at first then with increasing desire. He then gentled it again before pulling away, smiling at the disgruntled sound that action drew from House.

"Why are we stopping?" House asked grumpily, tightening his grip on his lover.

"Because we really need to eat and I think you had some reading to do," Wilson replied matter-of-factly.

"I can read tomorrow," House replied, leaning towards Wilson. "And eating's overrated."

Wilson placed a hand on House's chest and held him in place.

"Oh no," he said with a small laugh. "You are not collapsing on me because you haven't eaten. I _know_ you didn't have lunch. Cameron told me."

House leaned back against the wall and scowled. "Cameron's a tattletale."

"Yes, I know," Wilson replied. "She cares…for reasons that are beyond me."

"You care," House said, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

"Yes, but I'm insane…or at least weird," Wilson replied, his voice was warm and full of promises.

House seemed to accept those promises because he let go of Wilson and looked significantly down to where his cane was lying on the floor. Wilson gave a world-weary sigh then smiled and picked the cane up, handing to House with a small flourish. House took it and gave Wilson a light whack on the legs with it.

"Ow! What was that for?" Wilson complained lightly.

"For making me wait," House replied as he headed for the kitchen. "We have leftovers, don't we?"

Wilson rolled his eyes and followed. "Yeah, I think so. And I'm waiting too, you know."

""Well, that's just self-inflicted, unlike making _me_ wait," House said, his head buried in the fridge. "Mmm, thai."

Wilson didn't reply. He just shook his head and got out some cutlery and plates. Once they served themselves and heated the food up, Wilson took both plates and they wandered back out into the living room. House turned the TV on and flicked through the channels until he found a program he liked then he settled in to eat. Once they were finished, Wilson took the dishes back out the kitchen. As he rinsed them down he heard House moving around in the other room and when he returned he found that House had retrieved the reading material he brought home and was deep in the middle of a journal article.

Wilson leaned against the doorway of the kitchen and watched his lover read. "Told you," he murmured, a smile on his face, before heading for his own bag and the paperwork waiting for him.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, this chapter is the reason for the hold up in the posting of new chapters for this fic (that along with writer's block). This chapter is so _very_ definately rated M. I probably should have cut it but couldn't figure out how to do that and keep the flow of the chapter. So...I rely on you to use your discretion. Then again, if you're reading this story then you've probably already read the first two (and probably others)and you already know that I write smut on occasion. So, be warned...here be smut! grins

* * *

**Chapter 6**

When House finally surfaced from his reading, he found he was in the living room alone. The TV was off and there was no sign of Wilson. He tossed the journal article he'd been reading onto the pile at his feet and stood carefully. His leg twinged from being still for so long and he winced and scowled. He dug his pill bottle out of his pocket and quickly swallowed one before going in search of his lover.

He found Wilson asleep in bed and when he caught sight of the time he wasn't overly surprised. It was nearly one in the morning and while Wilson wasn't averse to staying up late, he generally preferred to get more sleep that House could survive on. House pulled his pill bottle out of his pocket again and placed it on the bedside table before limping into the bathroom. When he returned he got undressed and crawled under the covers. Wilson murmured indistinctly as House got settled and his eyes opened as mere slits.

"Greg?" he slurred sleepily.

"You were expecting someone else?" House said grumpily.

Wilson turned over and curled up next to House. "Research not go too well?"

"No," House snapped even as he pulled his lover closer.

Wilson made a pleased sound as his eyes closed again. "You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"

"I think it's got a chance of working," House replied absently.

"Cuddy's going to kill you," Wilson murmured. "That's if Stacy doesn't do it first."

"So what's new about that?" House grumbled as he ran one hand down Wilson's spine, pausing briefly to caress his arse before moving back up.

Wilson made a noise somewhat akin to a purr and House smirked as he repeated his action.

"Like that, do you?" he said smugly.

"Hmmrr," Wilson replied, his sleepiness starting to fade slightly.

House switched from his original caresses to drawing random patterns on Wilson's back, knowing the haphazard movements would drive his lover crazy. He smirked again when Wilson shifted against him with a soft noise of protest.

"Greg," Wilson murmured. "Hate it when you get frustrated."

"No, you don't," House replied as he let his hand slide down to Wilson's arse again, cupping it then letting one finger slide briefly into the crease.

All of Wilson's sleepiness fled at that action and he moaned and tried to buck up into House's wandering hand.

"See, you like it when I get frustrated," House said smugly. "Because I find creative ways of taking it out on you."

"Greg, shut up and get on with it before _I_ get frustrated and take it out on _you_," Wilson said through gritted teeth as House's hand continued its arbitrary movement along his back.

"Promises, promises," House said with airy amusement.

His hand stopped moving and he was still for a moment as he contemplated what he _wanted_ to do and how much his leg was going to _allow_ him to do then he gave Wilson a nudge.

"On your back, Jimmy," he said abruptly.

"The romance is overwhelming," Wilson said dryly as he sighed and rolled onto his back.

"You wanted romance, you should have stayed with your wife." House paused in the middle of shifting himself into a more comfortable position. "Ex-wife."

"Unfortunately the romance had died there a long time ago," Wilson said regretfully.

"If I was a jealous man, I'd get upset at that tone of voice," House said in what was almost a warning tone as pulled the sheets back and eyed Wilson like he was the main course of a very tempting meal.

"I'm right where I want to be," Wilson said as tensely as he was able to manage at this hour of the night, wondering what exactly House had planned. Frustration had a tendency to bring out the evil genius in House, which could be…_fun_ if a little nerve-wracking at times.

"So you keep saying," House said absently as he arched an eyebrow and made up his mind.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "So I keep saying, so I'll continue to say until you…_Holy shit!_"

Wilson all but screamed that last as House swallowed his cock in one swift move. Only House's hands firmly gripping his hips kept him from arching off the bed.

That was the last coherent word he was able to manage as House made a concerted effort to suck his brains out through his dick. All he was capable of doing was moaning. He slid one hand into House's hair then gripped almost convulsively when he felt the barest hint of teeth. He heard House grunt then the teeth disappeared and he forced his hand to relax. In response House increased his movements and the amount of suction and Wilson's hand tightened again as he came without any warning.

He barely registered House disentangling his hand from his hair and shifting on the bed until he managed to put his scrambled brains back into some semblance of the order. Once that was done he looked over to see House watching him with smug amusement.

"What were you saying about my frustration levels?" House said with something suspiciously like a snicker.

"Love 'em," Wilson replied then he reached down languidly and stroked House's hard cock. "Planning on doing something with this?"

House hissed as his hips jerked slightly. "Just waiting for you to recover," he said in a slightly strangled voice as he batted Wilson's hand away. "It's more fun when your brain is more or less intact."

"What brain?" Wilson said humorously as he started to lazily shift onto his stomach.

"Stop," House ordered, placing a hand on Wilson's chest. "Stay on your back."

Wilson paused and gave his lover a surprised look. He didn't have any particular objection to the idea except he knew it wasn't the easiest of positions for House.

"You sure?" he said as he settled himself down again.

"Just took one," House replied absently as he rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table and emerged with the lube. "Striking while the iron's hot, so to speak."

"Ah," Wilson said, correctly deciphering that as House had just taken a single Vicodin and was therefore in as close to a pain-free state as he was ever going to get and still be capable of coherent, libidinous activity. A fine line to walk; too far either way with the Vicodin and House was down for the night…literally…either through pain or drugs. "Just as well I woke up then."

"I'd have woken you up," House said with a grin as he started gently caressing Wilson's body.

"That'd be right, you bastard," Wilson murmured with amusement as he felt himself start to react to House's touch.

House's eyes became half-lidded as he watched Wilson's reactions. Although Wilson might _seem_ to be pretty much awake right now, House knew that if he left him for five minutes, he'd be out like a light. That deceptive wakefulness meant that Wilson's brain processes weren't working at their best and he tended to get some very interesting reactions out of his lover.

What was happening now was a very good example; Wilson was writhing slowly under his caresses, eyes half shut and he was almost purring again. As something of an experiment, House leaned over at kissed Wilson softly, sliding his tongue along his lower lip in a silent request. Wilson opened his mouth eagerly and slid a hand into House's hair, pulling him closer. House let him do that, deepening the kiss a bit as he reached for the lube.

Wilson whimpered into the kiss as he took his caressing hand away and House kissed his way along Wilson's jaw until he could lick and suck on his lover's earlobe soothingly. He tapped one of Wilson's legs, smiling in appreciation as his lover immediately spread them for him.

"You're such a slut, Jimmy," he said in a low, amused voice.

Wilson shivered at the tone. "Would you…rather I was a prude?" he panted.

House squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers and settled himself in between Wilson's legs.

"Good point," he conceded as he ran his slick finger down Wilson's once more erect cock, around his balls then stopped at the entrance to his hole.

"Fuck, Greg!" Wilson gasped. "No more fucking teasing!"

House swallowed hard; he loved it when he got Wilson riled up enough to swear like that. He decided to take pity on his lover…and not incidentally himself… and he slid his slick finger inside Wilson's warmth. With Wilson's soft cries and obscenities egging him on, he prepared his lover as quickly as he could then he used some more of the lube on his own aching cock.

Once he was ready he braced himself, trying to keep as much of his weight as possible off his bad leg. Wilson responded by pulling his legs further apart to give him easier access. He closed his eyes with a bitten-off curse at that provocative action then opened them again so that he could lean forward and kiss Wilson. As he did so, he carefully pushed forward until he was fully engulfed, tearing his mouth away from Wilson's halfway through to pant against his lover's shoulder.

"Fuck," he gasped, his breath hot against Wilson's ear.

Wilson moaned then moved his head to press a sloppy kiss against House's cheek. "Move, dammit," he panted.

"Pushy," House huffed.

He braced himself carefully then pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, steadfastly ignoring the glimmer of pain in favour of the more overwhelming pleasure. He kept his gaze on Wilson's face and he continued his forceful movements, adjusting his angle until Wilson gave an inarticulate cry. He then set up an unrelenting rhythm, abandoning all thoughts of trying to drag this out. Between his own arousal and the shimmer of pain that was slowly starting to take up residence in his spine, he knew that he wouldn't…_couldn't_…last much longer and he wanted this to end in a good way.

Wilson seemed to sense this and he grabbed at his own cock, stroking it firmly in the same rhythm as House's fucking and it wasn't long before he pressed his head back into the pillows and arched under House's body with a strangled "Greg!"

The feel of Wilson's arse tightening around his dick was all House needed and with a muffled curse, he came. He collapsed on top of his lover almost immediately, his leg finally giving out on him with a sharp throb that he felt all the way up his spine. He ignored it in favour of allowing the post-orgasmic fuzz to invade his brain, retaining just enough awareness to roll off Wilson.

They both lay there, breathing heavily until Wilson finally recovered enough to get up. He staggered into the bathroom, returning with a towel to find House had fallen asleep in the short time he'd been gone. He paused at the side of the bed with a wry smile then cleaned his lover up before tossing the towel into the bathroom again. He collapsed into the bed and pulled the sheets up over both of them. He curled up against House's side and briefly debated waking his lover up to see whether he needed another pill. He eventually decided to let sleeping dogs lie; if House had managed to fall asleep then his leg couldn't be _too_ bad and anything that reduced his usage of Vicodin was to be appreciated. Wilson then fell asleep with that thought.

When House woke the next morning, he was alone in the bed and he could hear the sound of the shower from the bathroom. He shifted slightly then made a strangled sound as pain ripped its way up his leg and spine. He curled up on his side, gasping for breath, and grabbed at his leg. He knew he'd left his pills on the bedside table but right now he didn't feel like he could move an inch, let alone far enough to get them. He swallowed hard as he realised he had two options. He could wait until Wilson got out of the bathroom at which point he'd get the help he needed but at the cost of an upset and probably pissed off Wilson because he hadn't _asked_ for help. Or he could do just that…ask for help. Once the shower stopped Wilson would be able to hear his call and he'd be more than willing to sort things out.

But he _hated_ having to ask for help. Hated _needing_ the help. He'd always, _always_, been self-sufficient and independent and that had been one of the things he'd feared the most when the infarction had occurred; that he'd spend the rest of his life being dependent on someone else.

But this wasn't 'someone else'. This was James Wilson. Who loved him. Who had learnt over the years how to help without making House feel like the cripple he was. Which in the end sort of made the decision a little easier.

He lay on the bed, feeling the pain from his leg throb through his body until the shower stopped then he shifted slightly.

"Jimmy!" he called hoarsely.

"Hang on a sec," came the response from the bathroom.

House took a deep breath and somehow found the words. "Can't wait. Need you now."

There was a brief silence from inside the bathroom then the door open and Wilson hurried out, wrapping his towel around his waist and taking in the scene before him in an instant.

"Dammit," Wilson muttered. "Knew I should have woken you up."

He hurried over to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of pills, opening it and shaking one out. He sat down on the edge of the bed and held the pill out to his lover. House fumbled the pill out of Wilson's hand and dry-swallowed it. He closed his eyes and reached out with his hand until he found Wilson.

Wilson bit his lip and put the bottle and lid back on the bedside table before taking House's hand and gripping it tightly. This was possibly the first time since the weeks after the infarction that House had willingly asked for his help.

"Is one going to be enough?" he asked softly as he ran his free hand through House's hair.

"Don't know," House mumbled in reply. "Though you wanted me to cut down."

"I do but not at the expense of your ability to move," Wilson said with exasperation. "I thought about waking you last night to take another but it had been so soon since you'd taken one and you managed to fall asleep so easily that I thought I should just leave it."

House slowly started to relax as the drugs hit his system. "'S okay."

"Are you sure?" Wilson pressed.

House slowly uncurled, testing his leg's response to the movement, until he could sit up. He looked a little drawn with real and remembered pain but he managed a quirk of a smile for his lover.

"Hot water and another when I get to work should do it," he said as he reached for his cane. "Help me up."

That request was greeted with a smile and a look that made his breath catch and he thought wryly that at any other time it might even have got a twitch of interest out of his dick too. Unfortunately that was not going to be an option this morning and quite possibly for the rest of the day.

Wilson stood and held out a hand which House took, allowing the younger man to pull him to his feet and steady him.

"Okay?" Wilson asked with concern.

House nodded. "It's been worse," he said shortly then he shook off Wilson's hands and limped into the bathroom.

He managed to swallow any snappy comments he was tempted to make when Wilson hovered around him as they got ready for work. Thankfully Wilson managed to work out he was starting to annoy House and he retreated from the kitchen to gather all of the papers House had been reading the previous night. When House limped out of the kitchen he presented him with his bag and picked up his own.

"You weren't serious last night when you said you were going to try the deliberate infection, were you?" he asked as they left the apartment and headed for his car.

"Of course I was," House said impatiently.

"But you said you didn't find anything in your research," Wilson objected as he started the car and pulled out into the road. "How are you going to sell it to Cuddy and Stacy without anything to back your idea up?"

"As an experiment," House replied. "The kid's willing. Hell, it was _his_ idea. As long as we monitor it closely, we'll be fine. I'll get the kid to sign something to the effect that he knows what he's doing and he's willing to participate in an experiment."

"Are you going to explain it _fully_ to him first?" Wilson demanded.

"I'll get Cameron to do it," House said House toHoHouwith a dismissive wave of her hand. "She likes being compassionate."

"I think you should do it," Wilson said firmly. "This is your idea…and his for that matter. You need to make sure he knows _exactly_ what's likely to happen, not whatever Cameron thinks he should know."

"Why are you being like this?" House snapped irritably as they pulled into the hospital carpark.

"Because you're being unethical…_again_," Wilson replied flatly as he parked the car. "Jesus, House, if something goes wrong you could get sued…or worse. You _have_ to let Stacy protect you and you have to let her protect the hospital."

"Geez, you're pedantic when you go into board member mode," House growled.

They climbed out of the car, House with a visible wince, and Wilson eyed him seriously.

"Look," he said as calmly as he could manage. "Go and get a couple of hours rest then go and talk to Cuddy." He paused. "Talk to her or I will."

House glared at him. "Never thought of you as a tattletale," he snapped before turning and limping heavily into the hospital without a backward glance.

Wilson leaned against the car and sighed. That could have been worse; House was rarely reasonable when he was in pain but obviously he was in slightly too much pain to want to tear strips of Wilson right at that moment. He sighed as he pushed himself off the car and headed inside. He'd get his work done as quickly as possible then check in on House at about mid-morning, both to see if he was feeling any better and to push him into going to see Cuddy.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

House lounged in his armchair with his leg propped up on the footrest with a pillow Cameron had rather hastily brought him when he snapped at her. He smirked at the memory; he was rather looking forward to the day when she actually had the gumption to tell him where to go but until she grew enough spine to do that he'd take advantage of her over-compensatory nature. He'd taken another Vicodin when he'd gotten to his office and right now he was probably the best he was going to get today. Starting off the day the way he had usually meant it was not going to be a good one.

The smirk quickly modulated into a scowl. He hadn't been able to find anything that he could use as a defence for trying what Aaron O'Connell had suggested. That didn't bother him that much; he thought the theory was sound and that was good enough for him. But he knew it wouldn't be good enough for Cuddy which meant he'd better come up with something convincing. Because Wilson was right when he said that he would need to get some approval and some protection for the hospital if he wanted to do this.

The experiment idea was probably the easiest but it would mean that he'd have to draw up a proper proposal and there was a risk that the whole thing could be delayed for a considerable period of time or knocked on the head completely. Unfortunately he couldn't find any way of feasibly calling it 'treatment' even though that is what it would be…if it worked anyway. The biggest problem was that if it didn't work then he risked giving the kid chronic osteomyelitis and despite O'Connell's dismissal of that possibility as irrelevant, House knew it wasn't something trivial. As someone who lived with chronic pain, he wouldn't casually wish that future on anyone. Nor would he willingly send someone down a path that could end up in the oncology ward; he'd been friends with Wilson for long enough to know that that was not a pretty way to die.

Movement out in the conference room caught his attention and he turned his head far enough to see his team just sitting down at the table. They looked confused and a little frustrated and he wondered which patient had put that look on their faces. He gave some serious contemplation to going out there to find out since the occasional furtive looks they were gracing him with indicated that was precisely what they _didn't_ want him to do. But the dart of pain that came when he shifted had him settling back right where he was and trying to judge whether the pain of getting up and walking out there would be worth the entertainment value of prodding at his ducklings.

Before he could make a decision, the three of them got up and dashed out of the room. He watched them go and shook his head. If they had a problem, they should come and see him. Of course it might _not_ be a problem; they might have just been going over treatment options and not wanted him to butt in. He relaxed back in the chair and mentally shrugged. He'd get check up on the girl later when he was sure the ducklings weren't going to be around. No point letting them _completely_ off the leash.

Finally he sighed and slowly got to his feet, wincing as his leg complained bitterly at the movement. His leg wasn't going to get any better than it was right now so he might as well go down and face the music with Cuddy. He limped out into the corridor and down to the lifts, pushing the button with his cane as he mentally marshalled his arguments. When he got to Cuddy's office, he tapped on the door once before pushing it open and limping in. He sat down in front of her desk and started tapping his cane on the floor in a fit of apparent restlessness.

"What have you done now?" Cuddy asked with an excellent impression of impatience.

"Got a problem with my patient," House replied blandly.

"Which one?"

"_My_ patient," House replied with a smirk. "Aaron O'Connell. I said I'd take the woman, didn't say I'd treat her. My team are spreading their wings." The last was said with relish.

Cuddy gave him a flat look then decided to press on. "What is the problem with Mr O'Connell?"

"He wants to try something a little…radical," House explained. "I said I'd consider it and now I want to try it."

"Precisely what do you mean by _radical_?" Cuddy asked with suspicion.

"He's got osteomyelitis along with his FOP," House replied. "He wants to try targeting the bacterial infection from the osteomyelitis into the bone growth in his musculature. I think it might be feasible. I want to try it."

"Are you insane?" Cuddy said incredulously.

"Well, it's been suggested," House said thoughtfully. "But it's never been proven."

"You can't deliberately infect someone," Cuddy said flatly.

"He's willing," House countered. "In fact it was his suggestion."

"That's irrelevant," Cuddy said dismissively. "Do you have _any_ evidence that something like this has even the slightest chance of working?"

"Well, not as such," House replied. "That's why we do these fun things called _experiments_."

"You are _not_ going to experiment on patients," Cuddy said firmly.

"Then who else am I going to experiment on," House said with a smirk. "Besides, he'll go for it."

Cuddy took a deep breath. "_Why_ would he agree?"

"Because he likes the idea of getting a few more years of movement before he solidifies and dies," House replied.

"Does he have any idea of the risks?" Cuddy said.

"Of course he does," House replied scornfully. "He's _got_ osteomyelitis right now. He wanted to let it go if there was a chance it could attack the bone in the musculature. He knows about the risk of chronic osteomyelitis and cancer." He paused and gave Cuddy a long look. "Do you think I'd advocate something with those risks if I didn't think it had a chance of working?"

That silenced Cuddy for a moment and she leaned back in her chair and thought.

"I want a detailed proposal on what you intend to do and what the possible side effects and results could be, good, bad and indifferent," she said firmly. "I also want you to speak to Mr O'Connell again and make _sure_ he's aware of what could happen. I want _that_ detailed in the proposal as well. I'll read through it and get Stacy to read it as well. Then we'll talk about this again."

House looked irritated. "You're going to make me go through the ethics committee, aren't you? It'll take them ages to make a decision. As slow as they are the kid could be dead before they get done debating."

"I haven't decided on that yet," Cuddy said with thin lips. "Get that proposal to me and we'll talk about this again. And House, _try_ and find some kind of support in the literature for what you want to do. I'd rather there was some kind of scientific basis behind this rather than you just wanting to test a theory."

House grumbled an acceptance and pushed himself to his feet. He turned and limped out of the office, torn between being irritated and satisfied. He was satisfied because at least Cuddy hadn't dismissed the idea completely out of hand so he had the illusion of getting somewhere. But the amount of work he'd have to do to put together that proposal what truly annoying. Add to that he'd have to reread all of the journals and articles he'd found to try and dig something out that might be called evidence of support and he was looking at far more work than he usually liked to do. The only consolation was that at least the problem was interesting.

By the time he got back to his office, Wilson was waiting for him and he scowled at the sight.

"Checking up on me, Mommy?" he said snidely as he limped into the room.

"Cuddy didn't like your idea?" Wilson said in reply.

House slumped down into his chair. "She didn't throw it out completely. I have to write a proposal for her."

Wilson blinked. "She wants you to write a _proposal_? She's actually considering it?"

House smirked. "Yep," he said smugly.

"How did you swing that?" Wilson asked suspiciously. "You _did_ tell her the truth, didn't you?"

"Why, Jimmy, how could you think such a thing of me?" House said with mock-hurt.

"Then how did you get her to agree?" Wilson demanded.

"She hasn't," House replied with a shrug. "She just wants me to write a proposal about what I want to do, what evidence I have to support the idea and I have to include the fact that O'Connell knows all about this and agrees to it all. She'll read it, Stacy will read it _then_ she'll consider it."

"That makes more sense," Wilson said with relief.

House gave him a withering look then got to his feet again. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Wilson asked suspiciously.

"Well, since you won't let us have sex in the hospital and I'm not in the mood to start writing just yet, I thought we could have a look at that patient you coerced me into taking," House replied with a smirk.

"I thought you were letting your team look after her," Wilson said as he got to his feet, ignoring the comment about sex with an effort.

"I am but they were being all conspiratorial this morning so I want make sure they're not stringing her up by her toes," House replied.

"That's…an interesting visual," Wilson said mildly as they walked down the corridor. "Exactly how conspiratorial were they being?"

"Oh, you know, they had the whole sneaking glances into my office and the 'please let him not come out and ask us questions' expressions on their faces thing going," House said with relish. "We just have to make sure they're not anywhere around."

"You mean we're playing hide and seek with your team," Wilson said dryly. "What fun. So why didn't you go out and ask them awkward questions?"

"Leg hurt," House replied dismissively. "They moved too quickly for me to take a good pot-shot at them."

"Clever ducklings," Wilson murmured with amusement.

"You're not meant to be on their side," House complained archly.

"I was just making an objective observation," Wilson replied blandly. "You're the one who brought up the whole duck hunting metaphor."

"There's three of them too," House said with a smirk. "I could mount them on the wall in the living room, flying upwards."

"How kitsch," Wilson replied. "We'd have to redecorate with paisley furniture and floral curtains."

House paused for a second, frowning. "I'm sure that combination clashes worse than Chase's ties with his shirts."

"Quite likely," Wilson said, smothering a smile. "But they'd go well with the ducklings on the wall."

"Possibly," House allowed. "Think Cuddy would get upset if I did that?"

"She gets upset at nearly everything you do, why would you worry about this one?" Wilson replied.

They'd reached the patient's room by this stage and House stopped just out of eyesight and prodded Wilson with one finger.

"Go and see if they're in there," he said in a loud stage whisper.

"Why?" Wilson replied with amusement.

"I don't want them to know I'm checking up on them," House said with a scowl. "They'll start thinking I actually care."

"Heaven forbid," Wilson replied dryly as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and took a few steps forward.

"I feel like I'm fourteen again," he muttered under his breath before turning back to House. "They're not there."

House limped forward and looked through the window, examining the woman lying in the bed critically.

"You know it often helps to actually go _into_ the room," Wilson prodded.

House waved his hand at him. "Shh, thinking."

Wilson rolled his eyes and waited patiently as House watched the patient. He gave a start when House suddenly moved forward and entered the room. He hurried to follow and walked up beside House as he was examining the woman's chart.

"Huh," House said, sounding reluctantly impressed. "Cameron's on the right track. She's just not thinking big enough."

"What's wrong with her?" Wilson asked. "The patient, that is, not Cameron."

House snorted. "Cameron's the easy one to diagnose. But Miss Murray has vitamin toxicity."

"Cameron picked that?"

"Cameron picked Vitamin A toxicity," House corrected. "So she's almost right."

"Okay, explain _that_ one to me," Wilson asked with a puzzled frown.

"The symptoms are too varied for it to be _just_ Vitamin A toxicity," House explained absently as he kept reading the chart. "It's more than one."

"And you got that from just the symptoms?" Wilson said slowly.

"And the quick examination I did yesterday," House replied.

"I see," Wilson said with a small smile. "Are you planning on telling them?"

"I'll see what Cameron does when the treatment clears up the symptoms caused by the Vitamin A toxicity and not the rest of them," House replied with a grin as he hung the chart back on the end of the bed. "Hmm, actually that may explain this morning's furtiveness on their part. Wonder where they've got to?"

"Your other patient?" Wilson suggested.

"Maybe," House said with a shrug. "Let's get out of here before they come back."

He quickly headed towards the door, peering out into the corridor before limping down the corridor as quickly as he could. Wilson sighed with exasperated amusement and joined him.

"Delaying this isn't going to hurt Miss Murray, is it?" he asked as severely as he could manage.

"Nope," House replied. "Well, it shouldn't as long as they start to think outside the square a little. You'd think after all this time with me that'd be the first thing they do."

"House," Wilson said sternly.

House rolled his eyes and sighed melodramatically. "Fine! If they haven't figured it out by this afternoon, I'll be _really_ obvious about pointing them in the right direction. Happy?"

"Delirious," Wilson said dryly. "Tell me, are you actually capable of diagnosing a patient _without_ turning it into a game?"

"Nope," House said with a grin. "Come on. You can buy me lunch."

"It's a little early, isn't it? And I thought you wanted to hunt down your ducklings," Wilson said as they headed for the lifts.

"I'm hungry," House replied. "Eat first, hunt later. Besides we'll get the best selection if we go down there now."

"Okay," Wilson said with a shrug. "But I have a meeting at twelve thirty, so I'll have to take a rain check on the duck hunting."

"You'll miss all the fun," House complained lightly.

"No doubt," Wilson replied as the lifts arrived and they walked in. "You'll have to tell me all about it and don't leave out the bit where Foreman yells at you."

"How about the bit where Cameron gives me a hurt look?" House asked.

"Oh, that'll be _riveting_," Wilson replied as the doors slid shut.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

House finally tracked his team down in the Diagnostic Medicine conference room. Obviously the running away that morning had been a clever ruse to get him out of the way looking for them while they tried to cover up their glaring mistakes in diagnosis. Which is why he now took an almost fiendish delight in limping into the conference room and slouching into a chair and looking at them expectantly.

"And how is Miss Murray?" he asked brightly though his smile was just on this side of evil.

There was an almost collective flinch from the three young doctors and House couldn't resist a smirk.

"She's…not responding to treatment as well as we'd like," Foreman said neutrally.

"Really?" House replied. "Well, I suppose her response to the treatment depends on what you're treating her _for_, doesn't it?"

"Uh, we're treating her for Vitamin A toxicity," Cameron ventured. "At first she seemed to respond but she seems to have reached a plateau at the moment."

"Vitamin A toxicity," House said sardonically. "With _that_ list of symptoms, Vitamin A toxicity is the best you can come up with."

"It fits the symptoms," Cameron said defensively.

House snorted derisively. "Yes, because bone pain is a common side effect of Vitamin A toxicity."

The three doctors blinked and stared at each other.

"Bone pain is common in Vitamin B toxicity," Chase said wearily.

"Very good, wombat boy," House replied sardonically. "Now try explaining the ease of bruising in relation to Vitamin B toxicity."

"Maybe she just bruises easily," Foreman said.

House rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you'd bothered to go and look at the patient you'd have noticed that she's showing signs of desquamation."

"You went and looked at the patient?" Chase said with surprise. "I thought you were leaving her to us."

"Well, I might have if I thought you three could actually treat her properly," House said sarcastically. "Now…desquamation, anyone?"

"But…desquamation after about twenty-four hours is a symptom of Vitamin A toxicity," Cameron said, looking confused.

"Yes, it is," House said with badly disguised impatience.

"But you said it _wasn't_ Vitamin A toxicity," Foreman said flatly.

"No, I didn't," House replied. "I just asked whether it was the best you could come up with."

Cameron's confused look deepened. "But…none of the symptoms fit a single toxicity."

"Ding, ding, ding!" House said with mock-excitement. "Give the young lady a prize."

It took a moment for the three doctors to work that out then they all looked rather dubious.

"Multiple toxicities?" Foreman said sceptically.

"You doubt it?" House replied. "All the generic symptoms fit vitamin toxicity; it's just the more unusual ones that make it confusing since there are symptoms for more than one type of toxicity. Desquamation from Vitamin A toxicity, bone pain from Vitamin D toxicity, easy bruising from Vitamin E toxicity and hey, what colour is her urine?"

Foreman slumped down in his chair and looked distinctly disgruntled. "Yellow-orange," he said grumpily. "Vitamin B toxicity."

"So, she's got the full set," House said brightly. "What are you going to do?"

"Test for elevated levels of all the vitamins," Chase said reluctantly. "Then start treatment for them."

"Excellent," House said sarcastically. "I'll make doctors of you yet."

He turned and headed for his office as Foreman, Chase and Cameron started to get up. He stopped suddenly then turned around again.

"Oh, and do an LP, will you?" he snapped. "She's got Vitamin A toxicity so we'll need to rule out any increase in intracranial pressure. Wouldn't want her head exploding." He paused. "Oh, and don't forget to find out what she's been doing to get this way and tell her to stop being so damn stupid."

With that House limped into his office and sat down at his desk. He eyed the pile of journal articles he'd printed out the day before and picked up the top one. He leaned back in his chair and started reading.

"Multiple vitamin toxicities?"

House looked over to where Wilson was standing in the doorway to his office and blinked. It took a moment for his brain to catch up then he grinned.

"It was kind of interesting," he said as he turned back to the computer screen.

Wilson walked over and sat down in his chair.

"Foreman was looking grumpy so I'm gathering you weren't exactly diplomatic about it," he observed.

"Foreman always looks grumpy," House said absently as he started typing again.

"He looked grumpier," Wilson replied.

"That's what he gets for being a doubting Foreman," House said with a frown at the screen.

Wilson swallowed a smile. "You didn't really suggest Miss Murray's head might explode, did you?"

House gave his lover a quick grin. "Got them moving, didn't it?"

"It's a hell of a visual," Wilson replied blandly.

"Almost as good as being able to say my other patient is a mutant," House said with almost childish glee.

Wilson blinked. "What?"

"Aaron O'Connell," House said still with that look of glee. "He's a mutant."

"He has a _genetic disorder_," Wilson said with vague disapproval.

"Caused by a mutation," House replied. "Ergo, he's a mutant."

"You can't call him that," Wilson objected.

"Why not? He thinks it funny," House countered.

"_What_?" Wilson replied. "You actually said that to him? When?"

"This afternoon when I went to speak to him about making this into an experiment," House replied absently.

"You called him a mutant," Wilson said flatly.

"And he thought it was funny," House said with a frown.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "House…" he began in a warning tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," House said with a dismissive wave of one hand. "One of these days I'm going to get into trouble and someone going to sue me."

"Actually I was more thinking that one of these days a patient's going to hit you," Wilson said wryly.

"Hey, I've had patients' fathers and husbands hit me, why not the patient himself," House said nonchalantly.

Wilson shook his head with a small, amused smile. "So, how's the proposal going?"

"Slowly," House said with a grimace. "It's all very theoretical."

"Cuddy's not going to like that," Wilson warned.

"I know _that_," House snapped.

Wilson was silent for a while as House continued typing then he said, "Do you really think it could work?"

House stopped typing and grimaced. "Honestly? Probably not. But I think it's worth trying."

"Because it's a challenge?"

"Because I might be wrong," House replied sharply. "Because it might work. Because if there's even the barest chance, I think it's worth taking."

"And Aaron O'Connell's willing to take that risk?" Wilson asked.

House snorted and went back to typing. "You all keep forgetting that he's the one who _suggested_ it. Of course he's willing to take the risk."

Wilson shook his head and got to his feet. "I'll leave you to it then."

House grunted and waved a hand absently as Wilson left the room. He was rather glad Wilson had backed down as he was in no mood to get into an in-depth discussion on this. After all the reading he'd done he was becoming increasingly convinced it wasn't going to work and he'd even one to see O'Connell this afternoon with the idea of telling him no. But the young man had been firm; he wanted to try. He didn't care if it failed because his life expectancy was limited anyway and if it gave him even a few _months_ of greater freedom of movement then he thought it would be worth the risks. House hadn't been entirely convinced by the arguments but he'd agreed to put forward the proposal.

His greatest difficulty lay in the fact that there was nothing in the literature to support the idea. While theoretically it had its merits, the idea of deliberately targeting one part of the body with bacteria seemed rather untenable.

House scowled at the computer screen with frustration then returned to his typing.

House limped into Cuddy office and tossed a file onto her desk, scattering paper everywhere. She looked up from the paperwork she'd been doing, some of which now lay on the floor, and glared at him.

"House!" she growled.

"There it is," House said peremptorily, ignoring the scowl.

Cuddy looked surprised; she hadn't been expecting House's proposal for at least a day or two.

"You've spoken with the patient?" she said firmly. "You've informed him of all the risks?"

House rolled his eyes in an overdramatic manner. "Of course."

"And he understood them?" Cuddy pressed. "You didn't leave anything out?"

"I even had him look through the proposal and sign it," House said with exaggerated patience.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "He understood it?" she asked sceptically.

"Surprisingly, yes," House replied flatly. "But then, he's got a very good grasp of what's going wrong with his own body so he already knew most of the medical terms. He knows what he's doing. He's not stupid."

"He is desperate," Cuddy replied.

"Wouldn't you be in his position?" House countered. "Wouldn't you try the same thing?"

Cuddy leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Yes, I suppose I would try almost anything, even if it _was_ stupid and potentially dangerous."

House snorted. "What's he got to lose?"

"Good point," Cuddy conceded. "Okay, I'll read it tonight and talk to Stacy tomorrow. We'll make a determination as whether this should go before the ethics committee."

"Does it have to?" House whined. "They hate me."

"I think that's self-inflicted," Cuddy said with a smirk. "And yes, most likely it will have to go before them."

"Great. O'Connell will probably have frozen solid before they get their collective heads out of their collective arses," House grumbled.

"It's comments like _that_ that make them hate you," Cuddy pointed out, trying not to laugh. "And how is your other patient? I trust you _are_ keeping an eye on her."

House waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Multiple vitamin toxicities. They can handle it. I'm going home so I can have sex with Wilson."

Cuddy gave House an exasperated look. "Thank you _so_ much, House. I really didn't need that mental image."

"Hey, Wilson's a pretty good-looking guy," House protested with a smirk as he headed for the door. "Who wouldn't want to imagine him naked?"

"I wasn't talking about Wilson," Cuddy said tartly.

House gave her a wicked grin for her sally. "Oh, come on, Cuddy. You know you lust after me."

"Yes, House, I spend all my time thinking of your sexy body," Cuddy replied, her tone drier than the desert. "Take me now, you burning hunk of man meat."

That drier-than-dry comment startled a laugh out of House and he grinned at Cuddy.

"I'll tell Wilson you said that," he teased.

"I'm sure you will," Cuddy said with a sardonic smile. "Now go away."

"Yes, ma'am," House said, poking out his tongue then ducking out the door before the pen Cuddy had thrown could hit him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It was late in the afternoon of the next day before House got his answer and he spent most of the intervening time annoying his team and avoiding his clinic hours. He was making a brief swing by his office when he found the message written in Cameron's distinctive swirling handwriting asking him to go and see Cuddy as soon as possible. He grimaced as he screwed the note up and tossed it into the bin; he had a bad feeling about this.

When he limped into Cuddy's office that feeling only grew. Both Cuddy and Stacy were there and both had copies of his proposal and neither looked overly happy.

"Oh goody, this looks promising," he said sourly as he sat down on the sofa.

Cuddy sighed as she placed the proposal on her desk and placed her hands on top of it.

"I'm sorry, House, but the answer is no," she said firmly. "You haven't got a shred of real proof that this could work and from what I could see, the risk of making things worse is much higher than the possibility of it actually working."

"And the possible liability the hospital could face is astronomical," Stacy added.

"He's already said he had no intention of suing if it went wrong," House said with a scowl. "It was his damn idea in the first place."

"_He_ might not sue but what about his family?" Stacy replied. "After all, they're the ones who will be left with the responsibility of caring for him if this goes wrong. And if it really _does_ go badly wrong he might just change his mind as well."

"House, you told me yourself that this was more in the line of an experiment than an actual treatment," Cuddy said patiently. "So forward the idea and Mr O'Connell's name on to whoever's doing research into FOP and let _them_ trial it. They've got the budget and the resources to establish and monitor this sort of thing _and_ they've got the background to be able to determine if it's even feasible in the first place."

"Abandoning O'Connell to his fate," House said flatly. "You have no idea if they'd even be willing to try the idea. And if they did it'll be years before they'll be ready to try human trials. O'Connell will have frozen solid and died by then."

"I'm sorry, House," Cuddy said firmly. "But I'm not willing to allow Mr O'Connell or the hospital to take such a risk with a procedure that has no evidentiary support. If you'd been able to find even one article giving some hope then I might have allowed it but it's just too dangerous. I sympathise with the young man but understandably he's not thinking properly." She paused. "House, surely you knew the decision I was going to make? You're not stupid."

House grimaced and sighed. "I know," he admitted reluctantly. "But the idea is reasonably sound, theoretically."

"Then let the researchers find out if it's more than a theory," Cuddy said. "Do you want me to speak to Mr O'Connell?"

House shook his head as he got to his feet. "No, I'll do it. He said he'd abide by my decision."

He limped out of the office, leaving two relieved but slightly suspicious women behind him.

"He's not going to go off and do it anyway, is he?" Stacy asked with a small frown.

"I don't think so," Cuddy replied. "Wilson told me that House didn't think the idea was feasible but it _is_ his job to fight for his patients. Something which occasionally makes me want to strangle him even as I admire him for his tenacity."

"I've just never seen him give in so easily before," Stacy observed. "It makes me suspicious."

Cuddy laughed. "Normally I'd feel the same but Wilson's been keeping me informed about this one. I think he's been a bit worried that House was going to do something unethical."

Stacy hesitated then said tentatively, "How long have you…known about them?"

Cuddy gave her a startled look. "Uh, a while. I didn't know that _you_ knew."

"I found out by accident," Stacy said, looking a little uncomfortable.

"You don't have a problem with it, do you?" Cuddy said with a hint of warning in her voice. "Because the relationship has been good for both of them in my opinion."

"No, of course not," Stacy said hurriedly. "It was just…a shock to find out. I never knew Greg was…was interested in men."

"Well, it's not the sort of thing you tell your girlfriend," Cuddy observed with a small smile.

Stacy returned the smile a little weakly. "That's what Greg said."

House grumbled half-heartedly under his breath as he made his way over to the lifts. He'd had a suspicion that he was going to get knocked back by Cuddy and while there was a part of him that was sorely tempted to try the treatment anyway, he wasn't quite willing to put his career on the line for something he didn't think was going to work anyway. If he'd genuinely thought it _would_ work, he probably would have and damn the consequences but even he had his limits. Now he just had to tell O'Connell.

When he got to the young man's room, Aaron took one look at his face and slumped down in the bed as best as he could.

"You're not going to do it, are you?"

House scowled. "The risks are too great for something that probably wouldn't work anyway. Dr Cuddy looked over my proposal but she said no."

"Can't you do it anyway?" Aaron pleaded.

House wrapped both hands around the head of his cane and leaned on it. "If I thought there was a possibility that it would work, I'd do it. But there is nothing _anywhere_ that suggests it would be the slightest bit effective."

"I'll go somewhere else." Aaron raised his chin defiantly.

House snorted. "I'm the only person likely to even hear you out on this idea. What makes you think you'll have any success anywhere else?"

Aaron looked like he wanted to object but then he subsided with a miserable look on his face.

"I just wanted a chance to do something more than look like a demented Greek frieze."

House snorted again, this time with amusement. "Now there's a hell of a mental image."

Aaron's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "All I need is the tunic and maybe an urn or something. I could make a great piece of artwork." He paused. "Are you _sure_ you won't try it?"

"The risks are too high." House shook his head. "Trust me; you do _not_ want to end up with chronic pain_ or_ cancer. Live with one, seen too much of the other."

Aaron looked startled and his gaze flickered to House's leg and the cane. "Yeah, I guess," he said slowly, sounding slightly unconvinced.

House turned and headed for the door. "I'll be forwarding my proposal and your name onto whoever's doing the current research into FOP," he said over his shoulder. "They might be willing to look into the idea."

"That probably won't help me," Aaron said mulishly. "It takes years of research before they get to human trials. I'll probably have moved into demented Greek frieze territory by then."

House stopped and looked back at him. "You're probably right. Might help others though."

"Leave a legacy, you mean?" Aaron said derisively. "Whoopee."

"Better than dying for nothing," House said as he limped out of the room, not seeing the set expression on Aaron's face.

Personally he tended to agree with O'Connell. Leaving a legacy or being responsible for the health of others was all well and good but if it didn't do anything for you then there was just something lacking from the whole idea.

He limped along the corridor and saw that his ducklings were gathered in their conference room, standing around the whiteboard and looking slightly confused. He pushed the door open and limped in, inwardly amused to see the three doctors jump.

"You know I don't like those looks on your faces," he said before turning slightly mocking. "Makes you look all old and ugly. What going on? You haven't killed Miss Murray, have you?"

"Er, no, she's responding well to treatment now," Cameron said, still looking confused.

"But she claims that she doesn't take vitamin supplements," Foreman added.

House rolled his eyes. "And you _believed_ her? How long have you people been working for me? Don't stand around here staring at the whiteboard like it's the fount of all knowledge. Go to her house and find out the truth."

"She still lives at home," Cameron objected.

"So what?" House replied. "Mom and Dad are here, sitting next to her bed. They won't know. Go on."

He flapped his hands at them in a shooing gestured and they rolled their eyes at each other before trooping out of the room. He watched them leave then stumped into his office and collapsed in his armchair and closed his eyes. After several minutes he heard the door to the corridor open and close and someone sat down on the footstool. He briefly opened one eye and acknowledged Wilson before closing it again.

"What did she say?"

House snorted. "No."

"Have you told O'Connell?"

House opened his eyes and gave his lover a withering look. "No, I thought I'd hide in here and let him get his hopes up so that I could dash them from an even greater height."

"He didn't take it well then?" Wilson asked calmly.

House grimaced. "Actually he took it better than I thought he would. He's disappointed though."

"I'm actually a little surprised you're not going to do it anyway," Wilson said slyly.

House grinned at him. "I thought about it and if I actually thought it might work, I'd do it."

"You see, _this_ is why Cuddy wants to string you up on a regular basis," Wilson said dryly.

"And here I thought it was because she wanted hot, kinky sex," House said with a leer.

"No, that's what _I_ want. She's just irritated with you."

House laughed and gave Wilson a speculative look. "Hot, kinky sex, huh? Sounds good to me."

Wilson blushed. "I'll think of something then."

House had just opened his mouth to answer when his beeper suddenly went off. He frowned and had a look then grabbed his cane and scrambled to his feet.

"House? What's wrong?" Wilson said with alarm as House hurried for the door.

"O'Connell's done something stupid," House barked as he broke into the shambling mockery of a run that he could manage when it was really necessary.

Wilson could nothing more than follow and when they got to O'Connell's room he saw what House meant. The young man lay sprawled awkwardly on the bed, his head off the side of the bed and his sightless eyes staring at them through the glass wall. A single syringe lay half in one hand and the nurses were staring him grim-faced and thin-lipped. House barged into the room and grabbed the nearest nurse by the arm.

"Shut the goddamned blinds," he snarled at her as he limped heavily over to the bed. He snatched up the syringe and had a good look at it.

"It's empty," the oldest of the nurses said, her face white and hints of sorrow and anger in her eyes. "It looks like he injected air into his IV. He was already dead when Sandra found him."

House's face twitched and he threw the syringe on the bed. He started at O'Connell, his expression getting bleaker by the second. Wilson took one look at his face then quickly and quietly ushered the nurses out of the room, issuing instructions to them as he did so. Once they were gone, he closed the door and walked back over to House, hesitating for a moment before gently placing a hand on House's back.

"He was telling _jokes_," House said tightly.

"Good ones?" Wilson asked gently.

"He said he was going to turn into a demented Greek frieze." House was still staring at O'Connell.

Wilson blinked. "He…had a vivid imagination. House…"

"Yes, yes," House said with a sneer. "It's not my fault. I did everything that I could. Blah, blah, blah."

With that House shook off Wilson's hand and limped out of the room. Wilson was tempted to follow him but what little he saw of his lover's expression meant that anything he said right now would be decimated with all the subtlety of a chainsaw. He was better off dealing with Cuddy when she arrived and heading House's team off at the pass when they got back from wherever it was they'd gone.

In the end it was a close thing, he'd only just left O'Connell's room when he saw House's duckling walking towards the conference room.

"Foreman! Cameron! Chase!" he called out as he hurried towards them.

They came to a halt and seemed surprised that he'd stopped them

"Now is _not_ the time," he said as he came up to them.

"What?" Foreman said with irritation.

Wilson decided to forestall whatever argument Foreman was planning on.

"Aaron O'Connell's dead," he said bluntly.

"What?" Cameron gasped. "How? He was responding to treatment."

"He was getting _better_," Chase added.

"He…committed suicide," Wilson said quietly, opening the door to the conference room and hustling them inside. The blinds in House's office were closed tightly. "He somehow got his hands on a syringe and injected air into his IV. It looks like the air bubble lodged in his lungs and he died of a pulmonary embolism."

"I…but…how did he get his hands on a syringe?" Chase demanded.

"That's the question no one can answer right now," Wilson replied grimly. "No one saw him wandering around but then again he may have had this planned if things didn't go how he wanted them."

"Wait. House said no?" Foreman asked with a frown.

"Cuddy refused his proposal," Wilson replied.

"When has that ever stopped him?" Chase said dryly.

"He didn't really think it could work either," Wilson explained. "But he had to make an effort for his patient."

The three doctors looked mildly surprised and their eyes drifted almost as one towards the closed blinds. They knew how House reacted to losing patients in the course of a normal diagnosis; they couldn't imagine the idea that one would commit suicide was going to go down very well.

"What can we do?" Cameron asked.

Wilson sighed. "Keep treating Miss Murray. What did he send you lot off to do?"

"Fiona was insisting that she wasn't taking vitamin supplements and that was really the only explanation for the high levels of the vitamins we found in her system," Cameron said.

"So House sent us off to her home to find out," Foreman added, looking disgruntled.

Wilson smiled "What did you find?"

"Bottles of vitamin supplements in her _mother's_ medicine cabinet," Chase said. "So we went and spoke to her Mum."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "She was worried that her daughter wasn't eating properly so she was crushing the vitamin tablets and mixing them into her daughter's food."

Wilson blinked. "You're kidding?"

"I wish." Foreman snorted derisively. "We thought House might want to yell at her."

A smile flickered over Wilson's face. "I'm sure he would under normal circumstances but right now I'd say probably not. He gave the three of you the case. Handle it."

Foreman seemed to brighten at that idea as did Chase. Cameron just looked a little resigned. The three of them headed for the door and Cameron paused on the threshold.

"You let me know if there's anything I can do to help?" Her voice was a little tentative.

Wilson nodded and watched her leave. He then took a deep breath and ventured into House's office. His lover was lying on the floor behind his desk, staring at the ceiling. Wilson lowered himself to the floor and leaned back against the desk.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Your team found vitamin supplements at Miss Murray's home. Apparently her mother had been crushing them up and slipping them into her daughter's food. They thought you might want to yell at her but I thought Foreman could do it this time."

House grunted and kept staring at the ceiling.

"It wasn't your fault, Greg. I think you would have noticed if O'Connell had been obviously suicidal."

House shot him a hard look the returned to staring at the ceiling. Wilson refrained from sighing and threw in his trump card for breaking House out of this mood.

"Cuddy gave us the rest of the day off. I was thinking life-affirming sex might be on the cards."

That seemed to break through House's mood and there was the barest thread of humour in his eyes when he looked over at Wilson.

"Did she actually say that?"

Wilson hesitated for a moment then smiled wryly. "The day off part, yes. The life-affirming sex bit, no. I don't think she really wants to know the details of our sex life."

"Yes, she does, the naughty little girl," House said lasciviously.

"Alright, how about _I_ don't want her knowing the details of our sex life," Wilson countered.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Possessive," House said, relaxing a bit.

Wilson rolled his eyes and got to his feet, holding out one hand to House.

"Come on. Let's go home. You can tell me in detail how stupid O'Connell was."

"I was actually after the sex," House said, some of his foul mood returning with the reminder as he let Wilson pull him to his feet.

"We can do that too," Wilson said blandly.

House snorted and grabbed his cane and the two of them headed for the door.


End file.
